You get what you ask for
by Lakritzwolf
Summary: Confronted with the Outside, Freya has to learn how to survive and worse, how to kill. Good intentions leave her stuck with a companion whose help she is glad for, although she'd rather set him free. Yet the Wastes don't leave anyone unscarred.
1. Chapter 1 The Hatchling

_So, I've finally given in to my impulse to add my own Charon/Lone Wanderer story to the ever-growing pool. It's hard to write something that is only half-way original, what with there already being so many stories, and some of them really great work. Seeing as they all take place in the same setting and between the same persons, they have to have a lot in common, no way around that. Still, I have some ideas that I haven't read about yet._

_I have yet no clue how long this story is going to be and I have only vague ideas of what exactly is going to happen, apart from a few key scenes that made me write the thing. Please give me a nudge if you think I'm going over the moon. However, I don't think I want to go and re-write the whole plot of the entire game. I'm planning on focussing on my version of the Lone Wanderer, trying to balance her between inexperienced, clueless twit and invincible super hero, and our favourite ghoul, hoping I manage to keep him in character. So parts of the story might seem a little compressed at times, but I thought those events more or less incidental.  
><em>

_Being no native speaker, I do very much appreciate anyone pointing out mistakes in grammar, spelling or choosing of words or phrases. In addition to that I am going to beg pardon if this story, especially in the first chapters, may sound a bit awkward or bumpy at times. I haven't written anything decent in over two years, but hope I'll get back up to speed in time. But: I am a mum of two, so most of my spare time (ha ha) is already accounted for. I can't guarantee weekly updates, even. I'll give my very best._

_I'll stop blathering now, so here we go. I hope I'll be doing a good job with this and that there may be a few people who will enjoy reading it. _

* * *

><p>This was not her world. She knew it, in more than a conscious level of her mind. The feeling of vertigo with nothing above her but blue emptiness made her stomach churn and her knees weak, and the glaring, searing light made her eyes water. She felt as exposed as a bug under a freshly turned rock. And as vulnerable.<br>What had happened to her life? Going to bed in the strong belief that everything was as it was supposed to be, the Doc's daughter striving to become a doctor herself, and woken up to a nightmare with half the Vault trying to kill her.  
>Running for her life. A weapon in her hands she had no mind of using, even had she known what to do with it. Aiming for a man's head, a man she had known all her life, was not the same as killing radroaches with a BB gun.<p>

Leave. Find your dad. Leave? What happened to 'We are born in the Vault, we die in the Vault'?

With a heavy sigh, Freya looked back at the flimsy gate behind her, and at the life it closed off from her forever. So, she had left the Vault, the only place she had known in her life. So far.

And now the heavy gates had closed behind her after spitting her out. There was no way back, but the way forward was utterly frightening, into a world that was utterly alien. How often had she not bothered her father with endless musings and fruitless discussions about how life could be outside? Countless times, she had lost herself in speculations about radiation, mutation, and what had survived of the civilization that the Vault Dwellers were a sad remnant of. Well, she was about to find out.

Finding her father was the only thing guiding her on, the only purpose, her only sense of direction. The way back was closed off, and staying here meant certain death, so she better get going. Easy to reason, not so easy being done.

With another heavy sigh, Freya heaved herself up onto her feet again, checked her shoddy 10mm to give herself the illusion she actually knew what to do with it, and set off, fear knotting her stomach at every turn. She checked her Pip Boy several times as she went along, until she was satisfied that the background radiation wasn't going to kill her instantly. In fact, as long as she kept away from puddles of water, she was at least safe from that kind of danger. If she would not actually be forced to drink it anyway to keep herself from dehydrating. It was no comforting thought, and she pushed it aside.

She passed shattered houses, the ruins of lives long extinguished, and couldn't help but think about those who had lived there. Had they seen their end coming? Had they tried to flee? Were some of them even ancestors to herself and the others she had known, having found safety in the Vault in the hill behind her? She would never know…

Realizing that the hill she was walking up was topped by a huge chunk of metal, she stopped to examine it closer. It seemed like some walls encircling something. Meant to keep her out ? Or… keeping something in?  
>The latter option made the fear return in full scale, even more so when she heard a metallic, rasping voice drift towards her. She dived behind a pile of rocks with a yelp, belly clenching, and tried not to piss herself.<br>Biting her nails as she contemplated what to do, she finally realized she could understand some of the words.  
>"Welcome… To… Megaton…"<br>Freya cautiously peeked over the rocks. That had sounded like a robot. A robot? Still functioning here in the outside world? After all that time it could only mean there was someone still around to keep it in working condition.  
>"Enjoy… Your… Stay…"<br>That didn't sound like something you'd place next to a cage keeping something in. But then, it might be a ruse to make her believe it was perfectly safe. But whatever for, if so?

Curiosity won, and Freya got up again and slowly moved closer to the grating, robotic voice and its bearer. If she remembered correctly, this one was of the Protectron-type.  
>"Thirsty… Partner…?"<br>"Well, now that you mention it", Freya mumbled, coming closer. The robot showed her no hostility yet. And what if? If it decided to unpack its energy beams at her, shooting a 10mm would be as useless as attacking it with a paper clip.  
>"Try… Moriarty's…"<br>He seemed like for all that was worth like a town greeter and she could even read the rusted words 'Deputy Weld' scratched into his front. Well, if it was a guard or a greeter, it wasn't hostile, and Freya looked at what had to be an entrance gate.

_Megaton. Well here we go, finally satisfying my life-long curiosity about the outside world._

****x:o:x:o:x** **_  
><em>

Upon entering the town, she had been relieved to find out people still looked like people. Upon entering the bar, however, she got the feeling that this wasn't true for all of humanity as her eyes fell onto the apparition behind the counter. The first thing that came to her mind was "zombie", she had come across those in these horrid comic books back the boys had been reading in the Vault. Brushing that childish thought away irritatedly, the next thing that came to her mind was torture. That made her feel slightly sick, but still didn't explain why she didn't hear moans and screams of pain due to the amount of skin missing on the person's face.

But the fact that he stood behind the bar, serving drinks to customers and turning hostile only towards the old radio in the corner assured her of the fact that he… it was a him, wasn't he… was nothing so out of the ordinary, and what did she know about ordinary in this world after all, as that people wouldn't let him sell them drinks. She took another step, and while his voice was raspy and grating, he looked more and more human the closer she got.

She cautiously sat down on a bar stool, and the mutilated man turned towards her.  
>"What'll it be, smoothskin?"<br>Freya stared into his milky eyes, blinking and trying to sort out several questions that sprang up simultaneously in her mind. Realizing that she had been impolite to an extreme level, she lowered her eyes, coughed and tried to smile as she looked up again. The man was still looking at her, slightly bemused.  
>"Sorry for staring." She cleared her throat.<br>"I'm used to that." He shrugged. "Name's Gob."  
>"Gob." Where were her manners? "My name's Freya. "I'm from…" Did they know about Vaults?<p>

"The Vault up the hill? Could've guessed." He took a cloth and began to polish a glass. The gesture was so domestic and relaxed that Freya felt her clenched muscles loosen up a bit and with them, her mind.  
>"You know about the Vault?"<br>Gob shrugged. "Not much. Only that it's there. And that the doors are a bit leaky lately."  
>Freya leaned forward. "Did someone else wearing a Vaultsuit come here lately?"<p>

Gob opened his mouth, then shut it again hastily and lowered his eyes. For some reason, he seemed suddenly terrified, but before Freya could ask him what the matter was, she heard a voice behind her.  
>"Gob, ye rotting fleshbag, stop running off at the mouth like that and do yer bloody job."<br>"Yes, Mr. Moriarty", came the timid reply of the bartender who hastily finished wiping the glass and shifted his attention towards the counter.

Turning slowly on her stool to look at the owner of the voice that had scared Gob into absolute submission, Freya saw a man who set off several asshole alarms inside her.  
>She didn't know how to shoot a pistol without nailing her foot to the ground, but she damn well knew people, and this man was of the kind who would use other people for their own means no matter the cost, and would stop at nothing to get what they wanted. The lines around his mouth made his smile nothing but cruel.<p>

"Ah, a Vault Dweller." He beamed in what was probably meant to be jovially, but Freya was already on her toes. However, she knew that it paid off not to let people know you were aware of them so she fell into the 'Daddy's Sweet Girl' routine, hiding her thoughts behind a mask of innocent stupidity as she analyzed his words and gestures.  
>"A Vault Dweller. Freshly out, like a newly hatched bird fallen out of the nest. Have you seen another Vault Dweller lately? I'm looking for my father."<p>

She didn't like the grin he gave her one bit.

**x:o:x:o:x**

Freya knew there was no way she would be able to gather five hundred… what had he called them? Caps?… anytime soon. Especially as she first had to find out what caps were, exactly. That it was used as currency she had been able to figure out, but what they looked like and how one got about earning them, she had no idea.

But then Moriarty left the bar again, and after seeing Gob relax somewhat, she decided to ask him. He had seemed accommodating enough.

"This is a cap, kid." He showed her what went for a coin, and Freya nodded. Bottle caps. Well, they were more endurable than notes, and not that different from an actual coin, so that was that. After a complete breakdown of society, you had to take what you could get. It made sense. Of sorts.

"And as for earning them, well, you'll have to ask around for odd-jobs someone needs doing. Moira at Craterside supply always has some loose ends that need tying up. Other than that, you could ask Nova to take you on, but I doubt me you're that kind of girl."  
>Freya turned to look at the woman who stood in a corner, leaning against the wall and shooting Gob a sour look as she nursed a smoke. "Gob, sweetheart, don't scare the kid."<br>Gob rasped a husky chuckle. "She's not been scared of me, Nova, so it's unlikely she's scared meeting a whore."  
>The woman called Nova huffed at him and continued to stare at nothing while blowing a slow bluish cloud into the air above her head.<br>The bartender looked at the kid again, a tiny smile on his face while polishing another glass. Looking right back, Freya felt the urge to find out what had happened to him.

"Can I ask what happened to your face, if it's not trespassing?", Freya asked cautiously. She didn't mean to pry, but she was fascinated nonetheless; she had always been too inquisitive for her own good. That at least had been her father's words to her on more than one occasion.  
>"Sure, smoothskin. Coming fresh from the Vault, I guess you've never seen a ghoul before."<br>"A ghoul? That what you are?"  
>"Yes." He exchanged one glass for another, and only then Freya noticed that his hands had the same ragged appearance as his face.<p>

"What did this to you?"  
>Gob looked up again. "Radiation."<br>"Oh." Feeling a little sick, Freya leaned back and stared at her hands. "And there's no cure for that?"  
>"No." Gob's voice was leaden as he answered. "No, there's no cure for ghoulification."<br>"And... are there a lot of people like you?"  
>His head shot up. "People like me?"<br>Freya was slightly taken aback by the strange look in his eyes. "Are you the only man suffering from that condition? Or did that happen to others as well?"  
>Gob looked at his glass again. "There's a whole city full of… people like me. Ghouls. It's called Underworld, it's in the basement of the Museum of History."<p>

Freya nodded, and unobtrusively scanned Gob again. Several details about him, his speech and his demeanor told her about his story, one she would have yet to confirm, but one she was fairly sure about. And it made her frustratingly furious, because she was sure she couldn't help him and do nothing about it.

She knew next to nothing about this world and the humans in it, apart from that it contained slavery, prostitution and radiation sickness so severe it turned people into nightmares. But what she knew she was good at was reading people, inside and out. Having been fast on her way to become the Vault's new doctor and counselor, she knew how to work out people's minds, and that was the only advantage she had.

The talk with Moriarty already had given her a clue about what to expect in this world, and she was well aware that if she wanted to find her father, she'd better wizen up pretty fast. She'd have to be a fast learner, or she'd be dead. Shuddering and feeling a heavy load settling onto her back, Freya left the bar along with the poor enslaved creature tending to it and wished for a moment she had never been born.

But then she decided that self-pity would get her nowhere and tried to accept the challenges this world threw into her face at every corner.


	2. Chapter 2 First Steps

In the next days and weeks Freya learned the meaning of the phrase 'Hit the ground running'.

Trying to improve her equipment, keep her pathetic little weapon in shape and coaxing Jericho into giving her a lecture in shooting her pistol (to which he probably only had agreed to make her shut the fuck up) filled her first days.

There was not much for her to do, and while she had managed to find Silver, talk her into giving her the money with the promise of telling Moriarty she was dead, she was still short of a lot of caps. And even though Gob had warned her about Moira having a severe mental condition, his eyes rolling heavenwards as he said so which gave her a clue as to what condition he meant, she was at a loss as to what else to do.

She had immediately understood the meaning of Gob's words when Moira had begun ranting about her 'Wasteland Survival Guide'. She was a sweet woman, and really only meant to do good and be helpful, but Freya thought someone like her telling other people how to survive was a bit...pretentious, being as she had never been really out of Megaton proper.  
>And employing her as a so called research assistant... seriously. Who needed a research assistant to find out what it was like stepping on a landmine?<p>

Still, short of any alternatives Freya had set off to find that Minefield place, a decision she came to regret. Maybe someone who knew how to shoot a pistol, someone who knew how to read tracks and stay hidden could have made it there and back unscathed. Freya had no clue about anything, and her awareness of her lack of skill did nothing to save her. She had almost been torn apart by a pair of feral, vicious dogs on her way back, surviving the onslaught by sheer luck and naught more. Skill with her weapon had had nothing to do with a few lucky shots, she knew that much. Had it been more than two, she would never have made it.

How on earth she was going to be able to find her father in this hellhole of a world she had no idea, and it made her despair. Only Gob's assurance that she would get the knack of it eventually as long as she managed to stay alive for the first few weeks made her able to go on.

Hit the ground running.

Moira's next item, however, proved to be too much for her meagre skills and experience. She managed to find the superstore, allright. Making it in, even. But only by a hair's breadth did she make it out again alive. The place swarmed with people trying to kill her on sight, and with her weapon skill and her weak nerves, she had no chance of even passing the second set of doors. With terror clutching her belly she limped back to Megaton, waiting for one of the murderous men from the store to follow her and finish her off, but no one did. She knew that the mutilated body hanging on meat hooks from the ceiling would haunt her in her dreams for a long time to come.

She stumbled through the gates of Megaton again, sore and bleeding and trying not to wail like a baby, and had to spend a good portion of her precious caps for the doctor to fix her up. Especially frustrating to her as she would have been able to do most of it herself, had she only had access to the right equipment.

Chatting with Doc Church however loosened the grumpy man up a little, he seemed almost delighted to find someone else with an expertise in medicine. In the end, something good had come out of her misfortune, for she left the clinic shorter of a lot of caps, but richer by a small bundle of essential medical equipment, containing two scalpels, needles and sutures, bandages and some other bits, including some stimpacks. Having these items felt a lot better in her hands than a weapon.

Feeling safer than she had in days, she secured the precious equipment in her pack and felt brave enough to try out her luck with the Wastelands again. Not on Moira's terms, however, she had drawn the line at her idea of radiation research. She had no intention of getting more irradiated than she had to, certainly not willingly, and the memory of poor Gob's face fortified her notion that she'd like to keep her nose as it was, thank you very much.

But still, out of personal curiosity she risked the trip to that RobCo facility Moira had talked about, using the radar on her Pip Boy to evade anything that moved. This technique seemed to work, and the trip turned out to be her first lucky hit since she had fallen out of the Vault like a hatchling out of a nest when she ran into an elderly man who had robots for sale.  
>It was a pretty hard decision, spending all these hard earned caps, but it turned out every single one of them had been well spent. Because her newly acquired bodyguard RL-3 kicked some serious ass.<p>

With the robot as a backup (more like herself as the backup for the robot, not that he needed any), Freya risked another trip into the store, discovering to her delight that RL-3 was capable of blasting the raiders occupying it all into the third hell and back all on his own. Although she felt queasy with all the killing and dying, she was nearly as delighted as Moira when she brought her spoils back to Megaton, and certainly more so when she had sold all the things she could never have carried by herself. And as a positive side effect, she noticed that some of the bolder and more irritating attempts of some of the Megaton settlers to pick her up peaked off right to nil. It was a relief and a half.

Elated at her first experience out in the Wasteland that did not end up with her crawling like a trampled bug back to Megaton, she ran through her mental to-do list that evening with Moriarty.

He still had her alarms going off at high speed, but she went on playing dumb and sweet, batting eyelashes and begging in her sweetest voice for news about her daddy while jangling with a bag of caps. He was a dangerous man, Simms had said so as well, and while she certainly did not want him as an enemy she found herself hard pressed to put up with his hands groping her backside. When she finally got out of him what she had been working on for weeks to achieve, she added item number two on her list, cautiously albeit, as she had no intention to push her luck too far.

Moriarty just laughed. "He's not for sale, kid. Not for any amount of caps. If you want to rent him for a night, however..." He suggestively waggled his eyebrows, and Freya was even harder pressed this time not to show her disgust. At him, not poor Gob. She was for some reason sure he would be mortified by that suggestion. Freya just shook her head, painting an abashed and embarrassed look onto her face and made a hasty retreat.

When she entered the bar again, she found it almost empty bar the whore in the corner and the ghoul behind the counter.

Freya ordered a beer and flopped heavily onto a chair.  
>"That was nice of you, kid."<br>She looked up into the face of Nova. "What was?"  
>"You know. Asking about Gob."<br>She shrugged. "Not that it was of much use."  
>"No." He inhaled another deep breath through her cigarette. "But it meant a lot to him, you know. No one else has ever cared that much."<br>Staring at her bottle, Freya shrugged. "I wish I could have done more for him. He seems so... lost. Hopeless." _Just like me. Oh, just like me._

Freya didn't know what made her ask, maybe some morbid kind of curiosity spurned on by half a bottle of beer. She was no drinker, and alcohol never did her or her speaking skill any good. "Do you ever... uhm... work with Gob?"  
>Even as she asked, she felt a blush creep up her collar and spread onto her cheeks, wishing almost at once she could shove her words back in. But despite getting the answer she had expected, it still made her blush even more. Still pondering what Gob made out of Nova's words about 'squishy jonnies', she watched the tired whore retreat upstairs and finally realised that Gob must have been able to overhear their conversation due to the quietness of the room. She slowly walked over to the bar, cringing in shame, her beer forgotten.<p>

"Gob?"  
>"Hm." His shoulders were tensed. "Thanks for trying to spring me free."<br>"Gob, I'm sorry. I was a total thoughtless brat right now. I..."  
>Gob didn't look up, busying himself with an extremely persistent spot on the counter. "Well. Everyone asks her that, first time they come here."<br>"And I guess her answer is always the same?" Freya sat down on a barstool, leaning forward a little.  
>"Hm."<br>Pursing her lips, Freya phrased her next words very carefully. "Gob, I think she meant it when she said you were sweet."  
>"Yeah. What else. Not sweet enough for her to take my caps, so that's sweet for you, smoothskin."<br>"I don't think it's a matter of caps, Gob."

Finally, the ghoul looked up at her again, trying to hide the bitterness in his eyes. "Yeah, the squishy jonnie thing."  
>Freya shook her head. "No. No, I don't think so..." She had been here for hardly two weeks, but had been able to overhear snippets of conversations on more than one occasion concerning ghouls in general and the bartender in particular.<br>Gob lifted what had been his eyebrows but remained silent.  
>"Don't you see? She's only protecting herself. How many men, do you think, would spend their caps on her if they had only the slightest suspicion they'd be coming in after a ghoul? They wouldn't touch her with a ten foot pole. And how long do you think Moriarty would let her live here if that were the case?"<br>After staring at her for long, silent moments Gob finally sighed and shook his head. "I see. Yeah, I totally see. Spunk-shitting motherfucker."  
>"And well." Freya shrugged. "And I think she's trying to protect you. Or what do you think Moriarty would do to you if he found out you two had something going on? Caps or no caps?"<br>Gob literally shuddered and busied himself with a glass again. "Got you, smoothskin. Totally got you."

It was all Freya could do for him, and she felt miserable nonetheless. But she was in no position to barter about anything with Moriarty, much less the ghoul bartender, as she had misgivings about that as soon as she tried, Moriarty would beat Gob a little more just for the fun of seeing her helpless fury. One day, she promised herself and, silently, Gob. _One day, I'm going to get you out of this place, friend._

The robot proved to be more than one life insurance on her way into D.C. Doing away with everything that came their way with Freya standing behind him wasting some ammunition and trying to look as if she was actually joining the fight, RL-3 had earned the caps she had spent on him threefold by the time she had crossed the River. But then, to her dismay, the going got even rougher, and she had never been so close to pissing herself as she had when she had seen her first super mutant. Talk about these creatures was one thing, facing on with a rifle pointing at her head, something completely different.

Listening to RL firing merrily away while yelling at the mutants that this one was coming with special greetings from Uncle Sam, Freya crouched behind the remnant of a broken wall waiting for a stray bullet to finish her off for good. One ricocheting bullet had already grazed her thigh, and while shallow, the injury proved to be a major hindrance to her because it hurt so much. She felt like throwing herself to the ground yelling 'unfair', cursing the fate that had thrown her into this world, a hellhole of slavery and the struggle for survival, stuffed with monsters and mutated apparitions trying to kill everyone and everything in their surroundings.

She wasn't cut out for this. She really wasn't. Right now, she should be examining someone's tonsils or doing a marriage counselling session with the Macks, not run around between crumbled ruins of houses getting shot at by nightmares. She suppressed some tears of hopelessness.

_Oh daddy, once I find you, I really hope this is worth it. _

She realised that behind her, everything had fallen silent, and the happy announcement that this was 'another glorious day in the US army' coming from RL told her that the fight was over and RL was the last man standing. Sort of.

Looking at the map on her Pip Boy, Freya pursed her lips and tried to make up her mind if she should be going to the GNR Plaza first, where she hoped she would find, if not her father, than at least a trace of him, or to Underworld, delivering Gob's letter.  
>Gob's letter... She hastily patted her pocket, but it was still there. She would have hated to lose it, especially after it had been not quite that straightforward to produce.<p>

Of course, Moriarty had not allowed Gob to write letters, on account of this interfering with his duties. And of course, in his scant free time, which Gob needed to get much needed sleep, and hardly enough of it, to boot, he could not get his hands on any writing materials as he wasn't allowed out of his room.  
>So, after a few moments of furious thinking, Freya had come up with her idea of secretary-ism for the ghoulish bartender's letters.<br>She had sat at the counter, paper and pencil at the ready, as Gob merrily rattled down whatever came to his mind that he wanted to tell Carol while polishing and cleaning away like a berserk, she all the while dutifully dotting it down. It had made even Jericho laugh, and Moriarty had acknowledged her wits with a sour grin and left them in peace. Freya could only hope he would not take it out on Gob's back later, but it was a rather feeble hope.

So, deciding that her duties to her friend came first, for he could not take care of any of them himself and she had promised, she set off for Underworld in a heavy limp as she waited for the Stimpack to take effect.

"Scanning, Sir", RL mumbled behind her as he followed her.

**x:o:x:o:x**

Needless to say, Freya barely made it to the Museum alive, RL-3 tottering behind her with one of his visual sensors gauged right out. She had scanned and scanned, ducked and crawled, and still had stumbled right into another nest of super mutants, just like the clueless twit that she was. Without the robot she'd have died twice that day, and Freya felt a deep kind of exhaustion wrap her around like a numbing shroud.

Exhausted, bleeding from two stray bullets now that had hit her when she hadn't been fast enough to find cover and filled with so many various pains, both in body and soul, that she didn't know what was worst, she stumbled through the big gates after a listless discussion outside with a female ghoul insisting upon Freya being a tourist. A tourist! Could this world possibly get any weirder?

She limped her way across the dimly lit hallway after pushing through the heavy doors, running right into another robot like RL, with a ghoul in a workman's coverall standing beside him.

After mutual introduction, Freya took one look at the robot and asked the ghoul, who had introduced himself as Winthrop and the robot as Cerberus, if he would be able to repair her companion, electronics and wiring not being one of her strong sides.  
>He agreed that he would, payment matter of negotiation when she came back for him.<p>

Glad that her companion and lifesaver was being cared for, but still numb with exhaustion, Freya limped onward, towards where Winthrop had said their clinic was, her eyes levelled to the ground as she felt the ghouls she passed by stare at her, some with unmasked discontent, some with only mild curiosity.

Underworld.

Underworld, as in hell. Or Hel. Or Hades. Or whatever one liked to call the bad, dark place of the afterlife. Dark, musty, and filled with apparitions sprung right from nightmares. The watchdog Cerberus she had found already, guarding the heavy doors into the beyond.

The only thing she had yet to find was the grim ferryman out of the Greek mythology carrying the dead souls across the river into the abyss of eternal darkness.

_Yeah,_ she scoffed to herself. _And the devil will be standing behind a counter selling booze._


	3. Chapter 3 Don't pay the Ferryman

_Don't pay the Ferryman: Courtesy of Chris de Burgh. The verse about Charon: Virgil, Roman poet  
><em>

* * *

><p><em>Don't pay the ferryman<em>  
><em>Don't even fix a price<em>  
><em>Don't pay the ferryman<em>  
><em>Until he gets you to the other side<em>

* * *

><p>Her time in Underworld gave Freya a vague idea about how Gob must feel, trapped as he was surrounded by smoothskins. Utterly alien and an outsider, one of <em>them<em>.

But while she too was an outsider, someone who didn't belong here, opposed to Gob she didn't meet with too much open hostility. The ghouls living here seemed much more peaceful and accomodating, on the whole, than the people in Megaton.

Doc Barrows had been grumpy, but not unfriendly, not unlike Church in Megaton, in fact. He was also competent and his equipment was clean which was all she needed to see to know she was in good hands. He had only given her one mildly inquisitive look after asking her to take off her pants so he could treat the wound in her thigh, and Freya had instantly felt the professional detachment of his as he began working.  
>No, she realised. She had no problems with a ghoul touching her, not even touching her skin. She had expected it, to be honest, and so had he, to judge by the look he had just given her.<p>

She smiled a little, and Barrows smiled a little back before turning and reaching for another stimpack.

She had traded with Tulip after leaving the clinic, both in goods and in gossip, as the shopkeeper was delighted in anyone new coming in as her place was not buzzing in activity, precisely.  
>They chatted away, and once again Freya was a little surprised at herself and the ease at which she felt being around ghouls, hideous to look at as they were. Maybe because of her father's firm insistence of everyone deserving a chance, of appearances being a minor point.<p>

Ingrained in her, brought up to live a sheltered life in a Vault.

Out here however, in a world spawned of and filled with hate and murder, things like tolerance and candour more likely counted as a soppy weakness and in consequence, got you in trouble, if not outright killed. She knew well that her openly caring for Gob could get herself and the ghoul in trouble, and still she had no intention of just tolerating abuse like that. Yet what she _was_ able to do she had no idea. Time would tell.

As Freya got used to their appearance, around her third day, she became able not only to distinguish the ghouls from each other after they had more or less looked the same to her, but also to find some sort of aesthetic appeal in their appearance. Not beauty, surely not, but there was something to their ragged, torn up faces and hands that caught her eye. And she asked herself if she was being weird or worse, or if it was just her medical education taking delight in seeing things she knew only from pictures or post-mortems alive and in working condition.

Not that she did too much open staring, she tried to avoid that. She knew from Tulip that the mild hostility she felt here and there was nothing personal but caused by the ghouls not taking too kindly to smoothskins, partly from jealousy, but mostly from the fact that most of them had been subjected to hate and disgust, had gone through hell and been cast out for it. Still, she kept her pity to herself, it wouldn't help them and most likely make them only feel worse. They had built a life here, and some sad reminder of what had forever been denied to them running around telling them how sorry she was for them not having noses anymore would not make her popular.

She talked a lot with Carol, too, after delivering Gob's letter; she was in fact the only ghoul that had been willing, after tentative probing, to talk about her ghoulification. It awoke the scientist in Freya, but any more questioning brought no reward, as Carol herself did know next to nothing about the actual processes behind her mutation.

"You should talk to Barrows", she said. "He's been working on understanding ghoulification for decades."  
>Freya nodded. "I will. Thank you again, Carol. I know it must be hard to remember all this..."<br>The elderly ghoul chuckled, a rasping sound like someone pouring pebbles into a bucket. "Hard... it is hard to remember, for sure. After having lived as long as I, anything that wasn't yesterday is hard to remember."  
>"How old were you, Carol?"<br>"When the bombs fell? A little girl. A little girl with pigtails. I think I was ten. Or maybe twelve? It doesn't matter. I hardly remember being other than this."

Freya wasn't sure what to reply to this, so she remained silent and nodded. Carol sighed, took a deep breath and focused into the here and now again.

"Tell me more about Gob, sweetheart. I've read his letter, but I am sure he's keeping something from me. Why can't he come to visit? He's made it there, so travelling can't be that bad?"  
>Clearing her throat, Freya considered lying, but the ghoul's eyes bored so deeply into hers that she decided against it.<br>"He can't, really. It's not only the hard work that keeps him tied up."  
>Carol said nothing for a long time, then she sighed. "He's a slave, isn't he."<br>"I'm afraid so. But he has a friend there, even if she can do nothing to help him or to make his lot better."  
>"Well, that's a little comfort, sure." But Carol did not look really comforted as she stared at her hands.<br>"Look, Carol. I promised myself I get him out of there, and I promise it to you again." Freya was surprised at the sudden edge of steel in her voice, but she felt what she said. She had no idea how she would achiece that goal, but damn if she wouldn't even try. "At one point, if I survive that long, I'll have enough money or power or both to get him out, and then I will. And then I'll bring him home."

Carol nodded slowly and laid a hand on her arm. "Thank you. This means a lot, you know. Someone like you caring about a ghoul..."  
>Anger and frustration began to heat her up from the inside "He's a man. He's a friend. I don't care if he's missing a nose or not. You know Carol, I've had not much experience of the world since I fell out of the Vault, but when I compare what I know of humans and what I know of ghouls, then I'd prefer the company of the latter anytime."<p>

Freya fell silent and thought of the bastard Jericho, giving Gob more of a hard time than was necessary, and Moriarty, who wouldn't fit into any other category than asshole. She thought of poor Nova, and of her face, so drawn, so worn out, that she looked twice her age sometimes. She had seen her come down the stairs more than once with e black eye or a bruised neck, and had secretly wondered about less invisible injuries, Moriarty not giving a damn shit. She thought about the stinking, sweating men trying to talk to her, eying her like fresh meat on the hook. And then she thought of Gob, and of Carol, and looking at her, finally found her speech again.

"I think loosing the looks of a human makes ghouls more human in turn that most other people are. As if with not looking human anymore, you'd have to fall back on what humanity really means." She shrugged, staring at her hands. "Do I make any sense at all?"  
>Carol gently placed a hand on her arm. "You do, dear. To me, you do. And I think you're not that far off the mark."<br>Freya tried to unclench her fists as she looked at Carol's torn and tattered hand resting on her forearm. "I wish I could find a cure."  
>Carol smiled a sad little smile. "I don't think there is a cure, dear. But talk to Barrows. If you're as smart as I think you are, maybe you can help him."<br>Freya got up with a decisive movement, gently squeezing Carol's hand as she did so. "I will. Talk to him I mean. If I'm going to be able to help him..." She shrugged. "But I have been trained to be a doctor. I might, I just might know something that could."  
>"It's worth a try", Carol said, likewise getting up. "Come back any time dear. Whenever you need a place and a bed, come back. I won't charge you. Not a friend like you."<br>"Thank you, Carol." They shook hands, and Freya left, lost deep in thought.

She was lost so deeply in thought that she took the wrong direction, and instead of standing at the top of the stairs after going through the door, she stood in another room. Looking back over her shoulder, she decided she would feel silly going back in and tell Carol she had taken a wrong turn and went on straight ahead, realising that she was entering a bar as she turned another corner.

Freya looked around to see custom was busy. Half a dozen patrons were sitting on the chars or lounging against the walls, chatting or making love to their drinks. Behind the bar was a ghoul wearing a suit and tie, smart if a little grimy, and he smiled at her in a fashion that reminded her of Moriarty, ghoulish appearance notwithstanding.

Then she turned her head, and saw the tallest man she had seen so far in her life, inside or outside the Vault, ghoul or otherwise. He was clad in black leather armour, the barrel of a gun sticking up behind one shoulder, arms crossed, eyes staring at nothing. She was tempted for a second to ask him how the air was up there when she realised that he wasn't staring at nothing. He was staring right at her. Through her. His eyes were boring holes into her body and her soul. Then he looked away again.

Feeling mildly shaken after being put under such a scrutiny, Freya tried to talk to him. She didn't get any further than "Hi...", however.  
>"No. Talk to Ahzrukhal." His voice was as stony as his whole demeanour.<p>

Freya blinked and took a step back. But it seemed that was all he was going to say. Then she heard a snigger behind her that was quickly stifled, but a weak lopsided smile twisted up her own lips. Quite obviously, everyone here had expected precisely this to happen. Well, at least she wasn't the first one to walk into that metaphorical glass door here.

Talking to Ahzrukhal, however, turned out to be as pleasant as talking to Moriarty and Freya limited herself to ordering a beer. The only available table, however, was the one right next to the leather clad giant in the corner. With a mental shrug, she walked over there and flopped into the chair on the other side, keeping the table between herself and the stony apparition.

As she sat there, quietly nursing her beer while thinking about her next steps, someone entered the bar who was not only staggering drunk but also more ghoulified, if that was what you could call it. He looked more... falling apart, somehow. Yet which of the two conditions had caused the other, Freya was unable to tell. He reeled over to the bar asking for a drink in a heavy slur.

"Out with you, Patches. You have had enough for the day."  
>"Oh please, Ahl... Ahkzu... uhm..."<br>"Charon."

That last word was spoken in an icy voice of command, and Freya flinched as the giant behind her suddenly sprung to life. With two strides he was at the drunk's side, taking his arm.  
>"Out with him, Charon. Not necessary to hurt him, though."<br>The tall ghoul nodded and with his other hand picked up the drunken ghoul by the scruff, holding him at arm's length while carrying him outside. His mutters of protest were cut off abruptly and turned into a complaining wail as he was dumped unceremoniously onto his backside outside the doors.

Showing no emotion whatsoever and without a word, the bouncer took up his place in the corner beside Freya again and crossed his arms.

No one gave the scene the slightest bit of notice, so Freya kept her hands and eyes to herself, concentrating on the sour smell of her beer and the lingering uneasiness the look of the man behind her had given her caused her. Charon. Just like the grim ferryman she had been musing about earlier.

_His eyes, like hollow furnaces on fire..._

Freya blinked and stared ahead, trying to sort out the fragment of a memory that had just arisen in her mind. Now where had she read that? Right. In one of the old history books back in the Vault. Classical education. History going back 3000 years and more.

Pretty useful when the skill she needed most right now was how to survive in a world full of hostiles and without food dispensers.


	4. Chapter 4 Good Intentions

Freya was torn out of her musings when the door flew open and a very agitated Winthrop came rushing in, heading straight for the bar.  
>"Ahzrukhal! Willow and Quinn are being hit hard outside, Brotherhood's got some Mutants going over the edge, and now those brainless green lumps of shit are trying to get inside! We need Charon!"<br>Ahzrukhal sneered, but after a few seconds, crossed his arms. "Very well. That'll cost you, though. Charon, go and clear the fuck up."

Freya watched the giant... _Charon_... pull his shotgun from the holster on his back as he set off to follow Winthrop and resisted the urge to follow them to gawk. Instead, she mustered the ghoul at the counter again. Since Charon worked as a bouncer in this place, it seemed completely reasonable to ask his employer for his assistance, but something bothered Freya about it. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something about the way Winthrop had spoken to Ahzrukhal and something in the way he had responded set off another alarm in her. Yet she pretended to be engrossed in her beer, until the door opened again and Charon came back in, this time with a slight limp.

He didn't look at anyone in the bar, and took up the place in his corner immediately, freezing into immobility despite the blood drenching the leather of his right trouser leg.

"Aren't you going to treat your wound?" Freya asked.  
>He didn't acknowledge her with the slightest notion.<br>"You're wounded..."  
>"Talk to Ahzrukhal."<p>

Freya spun around to look at the owner of the bar, serving a whiskey in his own very sweet time.

"Isn't he allowed to treat that wound?", she asked again, banning her agitation out of her voice.  
>Ahzrukhal looked up at her, disdain clearly written all over him. "He's survived worse."<br>She couldn't believe her ears. "There's blood spilling out of his boot!"  
>"He won't die of it, smoothskin. He's tough. Time to deal with that later. Barrows will still be downstairs when it's less busy."<p>

Freya snapped her mouth shot, fuming and very much resisting the urge to try and slap the slimy twit which would only result in the Bouncer throwing her out, causing him even more pain with that. Giving this conversation up as hopeless, she leaned back, casting a sideways glance at Charon. He stood unmoving, the only change in his demeanour were his lips, now pressed together even more tightly.

Looking back at Ahzrukhal, it suddenly became clear to her what had bothered her about the way he talked: He talked almost the same way about Charon as Moriarty did about Gob.  
><em>I can't stand this.<em>  
>She gripped the neck of her bottle so hard her knuckles went white.<em><br>God no, I can't _do_ this. This whole damned world is full of slaves and whores and whatnot. And I can't save them all. I simply can't._  
>She looked up at the bar again. Ahzrukhal was giving neither her nor her discomfort any notice.<em><br>I can't go around buying all the slaves I see. But I can't bloody well let this happen just like that. _

Pursing her lips, Freya got up and slowly walked over to the counter.

"Will you give me permission to treat his wound?"  
>Ahzrukhal turned around, astonishment written all over him. "And why the holy fuck would you want to do that, smoothskin?"<br>"Because...", Freya said pointedly, "... I have a conscience. And I can't ignore it. So, will you?"  
>Ahzrukhal sneered in response, a particularly unpleasant expression on a ghoul's face. "And aren't we Miss Goody Two Shoes from the vault. Go ahead and waste your time and money on something that'll heal anyway."<p>

Freya was not happy with how the situation was turning out, but damned if she would let a wounded man stand in a puddle of his own blood. Turning around again she now looked at Charon, still staring silently at a distant point behind her left ear.  
>"Will you let me treat you?"<br>He neither replied nor moved a hair. Feeling a little helpless and like an utter idiot already, Freya looked over her shoulder at Ahzrukhal again.  
>The barkeeper grinned an altogether not really friendly grin. It was outright unpleasant, in fact. "Go on Charon, do what the lady says. Drop your pants and let her patch you up."<p>

Before Freya could even protest, before she could even turn around, the wounded bouncer had already undone his belt and his leather pants slid down to his ankles. Freya cursed herself and realised she was giving herself names that would have made her father blush. _Guess there are some things you pick up quickly, you twit. _

Good intentions. They pave the road to hell.

She swallowed her anger and shame, however, and let the 'Professional Medic' routine take over. "Sit down."  
>He sat down.<br>"Now stretch out your leg."  
>He did as he was told.<p>

Focussing on the task ahead, Freya placed and unrolled the leather folder containing her tools of trade on the table and clicked on. It was all routine now, her hands steady and sure, her eyes trained on the wound and what her fingers were doing. This was what she knew. This was what she was good at. Healing flesh. Not tearing it apart with projectiles.

Relying on the ghoul's strength she refrained fussing around and pulled the bullet out in one fluid motion with a pair of tweezers. It bled again heavily, forcing Freya to drop the tweezers and exert pressure onto the wound directly. Looking around for an item she could use, her eyes fell onto the belt. She pulled out one of the shells, wrapped it in gauze and pressed it onto the wound, securing it with a tight bandage.

The she threaded a needle, waited a few minutes and removed the makeshift pressure bandage to stitch him up.

The big ghoul had suffered the whole treatment, including the stitching without painkillers in stoic silence, not a muscle moving in his face. Feeling relieved and slightly elated, as she always did after a job she thought well done, Freya wrapped a bandage around his thigh and gave him a nod.  
>"All done."<br>Charon stood up again as she cleared up and packed away her instruments, pulling up his pants and doing his belt and then resuming his place in the corner as if nothing had ever happened.

Freya did certainly not expect him to thank her, neither did she expect it from Ahzrukhal. The latter did, however.  
>"Thanks, smoothskin."<br>She looked up and, still powered on by her satisfaction of having done the right thing for once, held his gaze. "You're welcome."  
>He smiled, and it seemed almost genuine this time. "I guess you're not that bad. For a smoothskin."<br>"I try to be", she replied and went back to her table again to pick up her neglected beer. But instead of sitting down, she followed an inner impulse and slowly walked back to the bar.

Eying Ahzrukhal, she tried to pick up conversation again, trying to sound casual. "What's the deal with him, anyway?"  
>Ahzrukhal looked up. "Charon? He's a loyal employee."<br>"Loyal employee? You mean he's a slave."  
>Narrowing his eyes, Ahzrukhal shook his head. "You insult me. He is not a slave. I despise slavery, and would never be a part of it."<br>Freya lifted one eyebrow, crossing her arms and tilting her head. "So if he's not a slave, why was not allowed to being treated for that injury? His boot was overflowing with blood."  
>"Well, that was a minor inconvenience to a man as him, don't you think?" He turned his head. "Charon?"<p>

The bouncer hardly moved a muscle in his face. "A minor inconvenience, Ahzrukhal."  
>"See?" Ahzrukhal smiled an oily smile.<br>She frowned. "What is he? Brainwashed or something?"  
>Ahzrukhal paused for a second, then continued smiling. "Sharp, smoothskin. Yes, you could say he was brainwashed to be loyal to whoever holds his contract. Absolutely and unquestioningly."<p>

Freya felt sickened. That a thing like that existed was bad enough, but that this... contract was held by someone like Ahzrukhal was even worse. But just as she was about to turn away again, she realised that this matter would not let her rest. Not before she had at least tried once. Remembering how her probing had gotten her nowhere with Moriarty, she tried a different approach this time.

"Say, is he any good with that gun of his?"  
>"I'd say the best, actually." Ahzrukhal slowly tilted his head as he looked at her. "Why? Are you interested in acquiring the contract?"<br>"I might", Freya gave back. Was that really working? "I could use a hand more out there. How much would that cost me?"  
>"Well, he is quite an asset, both to me and the Ninth Circle, so..."<br>"How much?" Freya felt her nerves slowly begin to give up, only what she would do if they did, she had no idea. She had no means to threaten him, the only option left to her sulking or storming out in a strop.

_Oh yes. Little old me, hopeless would-be saviour of all slaves. You're pathetic._

"Two thousand caps."_  
>Keep your face in check.<em> "Are you kidding me?"  
>"Smoothskin, if you think of paying less for an employee like him, then surely <em>you<em>'ve gotta be kidding _me_."  
>Freya nodded, took a step back and sighed. "I'll think about it."<p>

She couldn't stand one moment longer in the presence of this barkeeper and the wounded man in the corner. But as she headed for the door, she got an idea. Smiling a little to herself, she went downstairs again to find Winthrop.

She didn't notice Charon's eyes following her as she left.


	5. Chapter 5 On the road again

To say she was nervous as she re-entered the Ninth Circle was like saying that the ocean was wet.  
>It had sounded just right in her head; explaining it all to herself and Winthrop, it had made perfect sense. Now, stepping through the door into the bar again, she had never before in her life felt greater doubts about her chosen course of action.<br>But the scene she had witnessed, and the sight that greeted her as she stepped through the doors confirmed her in her decision to at least try. Charon was still standing in the corner, with the puddle of blood drying under his foot, and she was ready to bet her bra that nobody had offered him even a glass of water yet.

Steeling herself, Freya folded her arms onto the counter. "Hello again."  
>Ahzrukhal finished lighting his cigarette first before looking at her again. "What do you want?"<br>She cast a look over her shoulder at the ghoul in the corner. "Him."  
>The barkeeper chuckled and inhaled deeply, blowing the smoke almost directly into her face. "He's fifty caps the hour."<br>Someone behind Freya sniggered again, and she wished for the ground to open up and swallow her. Couldn't she do anything right anymore? Why did she keep turning herself into laughingstock? The sneer Moriarty had given her had been bad enough, but this was worse. The whole bar was grinning at her back.

With a deep, inward sigh, Freya came to the conclusion that being a miss goody two shoes from the vault was going to be a pain in the backside, even though that was the only thing she knew how to be. Her altruism had gotten her into trouble back in the Vault more times than she cared to remember. This was giving Butch the sweetroll and ruining her birthday party all over again.

_And can I change it? This is the way I am. I want to help people. It's just that this world is more unforgiving about weakness, so I have to keep my guards up. I can do this._

Freya took a deep breath and looked squarely into Ahzrukhal's eyes. "I want to buy his contract."  
>"I said I'd be willing to part from him only after a substantial monetary compensation. I have to think of my business, you see. Two thousand caps."<br>"How can I be sure he is worth that much? I mean, right now he is even wounded."  
>Ahzrukhal frowned; looking at Charon, then back at her. "So?"<br>"I'll have to re-equip him, his armour is a mess." Freya shrugged. "He has a one inch hole in his leg, and I'm not buying damaged merchandise for that kind of price."

With a grumble, Ahzrukhal leaned forward. "You suggest?"  
>"Five hundred." Her voice made it clear that this was all she was willing to give, managing to hide the fact that it was all she was able to give. It would leave her with a surplus of little more than a hundred caps and what little medical supplies and ammo she had. "And him." With this, she pointed at RL-3, hovering behind her, shining with new polish. "I mean, you'll still need a bouncer in this place, do you? He's just as capable to intimidate and hurt people, but he doesn't need food or potty breaks. I talked to Winthrop, he's made... necessary adjustments."<br>The grumpy look on Ahzrukhal's face was replaced with calculation. "The robot? Interesting offer."  
>Freya watched nervously as Ahzrukhal looked back and forth between RL and Charon a couple of times.<br>"You got a deal, smoothskin."

She tried not to huff with relief, still nervous though she were. Her palms were slightly sweaty as she counted the caps onto the counter.  
>"I'll give you the pleasure of informing him yourself." Ahzrukhal's sleazy smile was making Freya want to wipe her hands on her trouser leg, but she suppressed that urge.<p>

Then she turned to face Charon; even though the deal was made, she still was trying to ignore the little voice in the back of her head screaming her that this was the greatest stupidity of her life.

"Charon, I..."  
>"Talk to Ahzrukhal."<br>"I have talked to Ahzrukhal. I have bought your contract."  
>And for the first time, he looked at her. "You hold my contract now?"<br>"I do", Freya said, suppressing a grin.

Whatever grin had been building up inside her, however, died out instantly as she watched the events unfold during the next two minutes.

**x:o:x:o:x**

She was still feeling mildly shocked as she ordered Charon to follow her over into Carol's Place.

"Was it really necessary to shoot him?"

"I said he was an evil bastard."  
>"The world is full of evil bastards, it seems. Do you plan on shooting them all?" <em>Look who's talking. Do you plan on buying all the slaves you see?<br>_"If that be your orders then yes."

Freya sighed. This was getting more complicated than she had anticipated.

"Okay. Right. I'll go and ask Carol if she can give us a hand with that mess and..."  
>"I am quite capable of taking care of that myself, mistress."<br>Remembering what had happened earlier and having no intention of baring him unintentionally to another set of sniggering audience, Freya hastily nodded. "Okay. In your time. And don't call me mistress, please. I hate it. My name is Freya."  
>"Whatever you wish me to call you."<p>

Freya finally dared to look into his eyes. But whatever she had hoped to see there, she didn't find it. She found nothing, in fact. No emotion whatsoever. Brainwashed? This was the first time she was confronted not with the theoretical concept but with a living victim of this practice, and her mental fingers itched to examine that condition. Instead, she cleared her throat.

"Freya. You call me Freya. And now, clean yourself up, and we'll be on our way."  
>"Yes, Freya." He got up and left for the washroom, leaving Freya to stare at his retreating back.<p>

"Freya?"  
>She spun around to see Carol cautiously walking up to her. "Yes?"<br>"What on earth has happened?"  
>She tried to smile. "I have freed Charon."<br>"You have freed him?" Carol narrowed her remnants of eyebrows. "How?"  
>"Well... I have bought his contract, so he's not technically free yet. But he's at least free from standing in that bar all the time waiting for a drunk that needed to be thrown out. We figure out the rest later."<p>

Carol shook her head. "Freya... that man is dangerous."  
>"I know." Freya looked at her hands. "I was there when Winthrop fetched him to deal with a mutant attack."<br>"That's not what I meant."  
>Freya tilted her head questioningly.<br>"I mean he has been in Ahzrukhal's employment for several decades now, always standing in that corner like a stone. What he has done before that, no one knows, and if Ahzrukhal does, he never told. I don't know what will happen if you find a way to free him, but if I was you I would make sure that there is an escape exit right behind me when I did."

Freya didn't like what she was hearing, but that didn't mean she gave the warning no heed. It could well be that pent up emotions could produce a backlash of some kind, especially after so long a time. She had to think about this some more. What if it was only one kind of specific sub-conscious confinement of...  
>Her thoughts drifted off into spheres only she could inhabit.<p>

_Constraints of external reality..._

As she sat there musing, she heard the fall of heavy footsteps behind her. She didn't have to wait to hear his voice to know it was her new employee.

_Gee, that sounds soo much better than slave, does it?_

"I am ready."  
>Freya turned to face him and tried to smile. His stony demeanour however bounced it right off and she cleared her throat. "Right. Do you need to pack anything?"<br>"No."  
>"Ok. Then let's go." She shouldered her pack and he followed her down the stairs and along the corridor, past several ghouls staring in a mixture of disbelieve and what could have been fear. Most of them averted their eyes hastily, and Freya wondered if that meant they were afraid of Charon or of her using him on them. <em>Which, come to think of it, comes down to pretty much the same.<em>

Once outside, Freya could admire his craftsmanship with his weapon first hand. The place in front of the museum door was strewn with more than a dozen corpses of super mutants, and quite a few had sizeable holes in their heads. Willow was nowhere to be seen, but most likely... hopefully... she would be in the Chop Shop to in the capable hands of Doc Barrows.

After surveying the carnage around her for a few moments, Freya turned to face Charon who had unslung the weapon from his back.  
>"Right. Okay." She looked around again and tried to determine her best course of action. After weighing options for a minute, she rested her eyes on the ghoul beside her. "I have read your contract, which pretty much sums up to me telling you to jump with you asking how high. Correct?"<br>"Correct."  
>"Is there anything else in addition to that you could tell me?"<br>Charon narrowed his eyes the tiniest bit. "No."

Freya felt a sigh build up inside her chest but suppressed it. "And the only way to end the employment is for me to die or pass the contract on to someone else, willingly or unwillingly. That means if someone steals the contract, then tough luck for me?"  
>"Correct."<br>"Okay." Freya took the old and slightly tattered piece of paper out of her pocket and tried to think of a better hiding place. Unable to come up with a better alternative, she folded it again and, feeling mildly embarrassed and self-conscious, unzipped her suit a bit and slipped it into her bra.  
>"Okay." She shot a glance at Charon, but he was only watching her with no more than mild disinterest. "It also says in the contract that although physical violence towards you will forfeit the contract, I can punish you as I see fit. I won't ask, but I want you to know that I'd never do such a thing."<br>He blinked once, and Freya almost lost her nerves.  
>"Crap, what is wrong with you? Can't you talk unless you're ordered to?"<br>"Correct."

With a suppressed groan, Freya dragged her hands down her face. "Sorry", she mumbled through her fingers. "I'm not used to this." Then she dropped her hands and took a deep breath. "Right. I allow you to speak your mind. Freely, and also unbidden. Is that sufficient?"  
>"It is." Charon checked the trigger of his rifle, scanned their surroundings for a moment, and looked at Freya again. "What are your orders now?"<br>"My... yes, my orders." Freya thought for a few moments."I can't deny I need your help right now. You see, the robot I traded to Ahzrukhal for your contract is the only reason I am still alive. And since I'd never have made it here without him, I'll not likely make it anywhere else, so without help, I'm stuck here."  
>Charon barely lifted his brow ridge. "And what do you mean to do now?"<br>"Now?" Freya took a deep breath. "Now I need your help to earn some money so I can buy him back so I can set you free."  
>"Set me free?" He narrowed his eyes, and a strange glow appeared behind their milky sheen. "And why would you do that? And besides, Ahzrukhal will never sell him back to you."<p>

Freya stared up at him and pressed her lip together. The thought honestly hadn't occurred to her yet, and she wondered why. But she would deal with the problems one at a time. Now she needed to find her dad, and once she had done that, she most probably wouldn't need Charon's help anymore, anyway.

"Then I'll have to make do without him. Once I found my father, I can find a way to set you free."  
>Charon didn't reply.<br>"I won't treat you like a slave, Charon. I mean it. I don't excuse any form of slavery, mind. I can't bear it."  
>"And are you planning on freeing every fucking slave in the whole fucking wastelands?"<p>

Freya pressed her lips together and exhaled softly through her nose, then she shrugged and let her shoulders drop. "No", she said, looking at her hands. "No, I can't do that, and I know it. But I'll be damned if I just suffer it in silence. I can't help every single one of them, but I damn well try to help those I can, no matter how little it is." Then she looked up again at Charon. "Because no one made a greater mistake than he who did nothing because he could do so little."  
>Charon nodded slowly. "If that is the course of action, so be it. I'm in no position to question your motifes. I doubt your chances of success, though."<br>"I know it sounds preposterous." Freya shrugged again. "I just can't help my feelings."  
>"There are a lot of people out there who will kill you just for what you said right now."<br>She clenched her hands into fists. "Are there."

Charon seemed to suppress the urge to roll his eyes. "Slavers, smoothskin. The whole fucking wasteland is littered with slaves and slavers. There's a whole city northwest of here full of them. A lot of people make their living with slavery. Don't think they'd hesitate to blow your brains out if they get their hands on you."  
>"Well." Freya looked up and tried to smile. "That's what I have you around for, now."<br>Charon shook his head. "And that talk about setting me free earlier?"  
>Freya straightened up and looked straight into his eyes again. "I am setting you free. I just need your help first. As soon as I find dad, you're free." It took her a while to realise that the rasping huffs she heard him make were a chuckle.<p>

"Fuck, smoothskin, you really don't have a clue, do you."  
>"About what?"<br>"About me. The fucking contract. I am no fucking slave. You can't set me free."  
>"But there has to be a way to free you from that contract!"<br>"Yeah. Give me a Brahmin tail into each hand and make me sing Three Blind Mice backwards."  
>"What?"<p>

"A bullet between the eyes! There is no fucking way!" He leaned forward with a growl. "And if you try to destroy the contract, I'll be forced to stop you."  
>Freya leaned back a little. "But..."<br>"There is no fucking but. Do you really think someone would take the pains creating someone like me and then not build a failsafe into it?"  
>"I guess not." She felt a little nauseous.<br>"No. I am not a slave, and you can't set me free."  
>For a moment, they locked eyes, but Freya broke the contact first and looked down. "No", she said very softly. "You're worse off than a slave. Because a slave has a least a theoretical chance of trying to flee and regaining his freedom."<p>

In the awkward silence after their last words, the sound his weapon made as he cocked it sounded like a shot. "Kneel", he rasped.  
>Freya wasted no time to ask, she just dropped down, and as soon as her knees hit the ground Charon fired his gun. Behind her, Freya heard the howl of a feral dog being cut off very abruptly.<p>

She looked up, he looked down, and their eyes met for the first time in something like understanding.  
>"Free you or not, I guess I'd be glad if you could teach me the ropes, Charon", Freya said.<br>Charon reloaded his weapon, checked the trigger and looked at her again as she stood up. "I'm no fucking babysitter."  
>"Of course not. But if you don't want to do all the work, then you'd better teach me how to use a weapon properly."<br>There was a glint in his eye. "I'd rather not get shot at from two sides, smoothskin."

Freya suppressed a grin. "Then you'd better do a good job." Then she looked into her old 10mm. "Now where does the bullet come out?"  
>He reached over and grabbed it, but halted when she grinned. "Don't do that."<br>She shook her head. "Sorry. But seriously. I need help with that."  
>Charon shook his head and slung the shotgun onto his back again. "Then we'd better find some targets that don't move too fast."<br>Freya tilted her head. "Like what? Corpses?"

"To start with." He looked down at her again. "Ever killed anything?"  
>"A few radroaches, and with a few lucky shots, two feral dogs." Freya bit her lower lip.<br>Charon rubbed a forefinger across his chin. "That's better than nothing, I guess."


	6. Chapter 6 What we are

_A/N: Quoting a book further down (you'll know it when you read it). Title: __An invitation to reflexive sociology, Pierre Bourdieu & Loïc J. D. Wacquant, 1992. Don't. Ask._

* * *

><p>"This way."<br>Nodding silently, Freya followed the big ghoul into a maintenance tunnel. Old, rusty pipes leaked a little steam as she went past, and the distant rumbling together with the steel walls around her reminded her more of the Vault than she liked.  
>Charon stopped in a doorway, motioning to her to come to his side. The room was square, containing two collapsed metal shelves. At the far wall, the corridor continued, turning off in a right angle after a few feet.<br>"See? Four of the fuckers. Go for it."

Freya nodded again and pulled her pistol, not so shoddy anymore after Charon had tinkered with it. Remembering the little lesson she had managed to talk Jericho into giving her, she held the pistol at an angle, arm outstretched.  
>Predictably, the bullet went astray. Ducking his head to avoid the ricocheting projectile, Charon shot her a sour look.<br>"And you told me that dumbass in Megaton gave you a lesson?"  
>Freya resisted the urge to bite her lip like a scolded schoolgirl. "Well... he did."<br>"The fuck he did." Charon copied her posture with the pistol. "The only thing you'll manage to hit like that is the wall opposite. Maybe."  
>"So?"<br>"Hold it like this."

This time, Freya tried to copy his posture. So far, the radroaches remained blissfully oblivious of their presence.

"No." Shaking his head, Charon reached out for her hand, hesitating the last moment before he actually touched her. Freya nodded, giving him wordless permission to do so. He took her hands in his. "Like that, smoothskin. Left hand is supporting the right one. That way you'll have more control. And stop pulling that face when aiming. Relax."  
>"I wasn't aware I was pulling a face." Even though, Freya tried to relax as she aimed.<br>"And aim for the thorax. It's the more difficult to hit, but if you do hit, they're dead in one shot."  
>Nodding again, Freya concentrated, heeding his advice, aimed, and shot. The radroach almost literally exploded in a shower of slime and chitin fragments.<p>

"Now that's more like it." Freya gave in to her impulse to grin sheepishly. "Finally some useful tips."  
>She looked at Charon, who rolled his eyes. "Yeah, bet you're the bane of the Wasteland now."<br>"That wasn't what I meant", Freya replied with a frown. "I'd like to think of myself as a little smarter than that, you know. I know I have a lot more to learn. At least I survived long enough to get that chance."  
>"Yeah, you did." Charon looked away, looking uncomfortable.<br>"What is it now?"  
>He cleared his throat, a hoarse and rasping sound that made Freya wince. "It wasn't my place to speak to you like this."<br>This time, it was her turn to roll her eyes. "Oh come on. I gave you permission to speak, didn't I? That included pointing out when I act like an idiot. I said it and I meant it."  
>"Very well." He looked up again, and there was the hint of an upwards movement in the right corner of his mouth. "Think you can finish of the other three?"<p>

Freya took a deep breath, readied her pistol and aimed for the second radroach. This time she needed two shots, and the third one took only one again. "I think I'm getting the knack of this."  
>"Don't be overconfident. You're maybe getting the knack of hitting targets that don't move."<br>"Sure. One step at a time."

Pulling up the weapon and aiming on one smooth motion, Freya took out the fourth radroach with a single shot, feeling a little proud of herself. All the aiming practice down in the Vault hunting roaches hadn't been for nothing, all she had needed was someone to show her how to handle a pistol properly.

Checking her Pip Boy as she entered the room, Freya saw another dot appear on the screen. That roach was just scurrying down the corridor towards the corner, heading right for Freya and for its doom. Scanning the junk on one of the shelves, she took another step towards the doorway to wait for it. She then turned around, meaning to ask Charon if he was coming but froze upon seeing his facial expression as he cocked his weapon.

A hoarse growl sounded out behind her, but even as she spun around, an ice-cold hand with nails like claws closed around her neck. Pain seared through her throat and ice-cold panic filled her mind for a second, but still she somehow managed to thrust out her pistol and pull the trigger, and again, and again. Even as the hammer hit the empty chamber with a hollow click, the hand around her neck slid off and with a gasp, Freya fell against the wall behind her, gulping air through her burning throat.

"What... what the hell is that?", she croaked as she stared at the twisted apparition lying crumpled at her feet. Eyes bulging, teeth shattered, skin flaking and slime drooling out of the slack mouth.  
>Charon was at her side, taking her elbow. "That, smoothskin, is a ghoul."<br>Freya swallowed heavily, fighting to keep her knees straight under her that seemed to have turned into cooked pasta. "A ghoul?"  
>"A feral ghoul."<br>"Oh." She looked down again. "_That_ is a feral ghoul. I've heard about those, in Underworld."  
>Charon gave her a scrutinizing look. "You're not going to puke, are you?"<br>Gulping for air again, she shook her head. "I try very much not to."

"Good." Then he looked down again, nudging the feral with his boot to make sure it really was dead. "You killed him clean. Good job, considering he was trying to rip out your throat."  
>Freya swallowed again, focussing on the slowly receding pain. "Was that... was that a word of praise?"<br>This time, it was there, a tiny, lopsided smile for a split-second. "Yeah. But don't let that get into your head."  
>"I won't", she replied, watching her trembling hands. "I think I'm in mild shock."<br>"Then holster the pistol and keep close. Just tell me which way we need to go, and I'll clear the coast."

"Roger." Freya put on a brave smile and forced her still somewhat weak knees into a walk as she followed Charon. "We just split the work. You do the killing, and I patch you up afterwards."  
>He snorted. "I'm no fucking greenhorn. Takes more than a single feral to bring me down."<p>

Freya didn't reply, but she felt a grin spread onto her face.

**x:o:x:o:x**

Of course it would take more than a single feral to bring Charon down. And more than an encampment of raiders who had made one of the metro tunnels their home. What it had taken to bring him down, at least in this particular situation, was a piece of railroad track hanging from two chains that had hit him squarely in the ribs as he had stepped onto a hidden pressure plate.

Freya's mind went strangely blank as she fell onto her knees beside him to check his vitals. Everything else disappeared into the periphery of her awareness as she focussed on the man before her who was opening and closing his mouth like a beached fish in a vain attempt of regaining the breath that had so violently been knocked out of him. All her senses and awareness was fixed on him now.  
>It took her only a few seconds to estimate the situation and take appropriate measures. Because of the armour, she couldn't check for broken ribs, but he still had a strong pulse, even though it was racing frantically. Without thinking any further, Freya pressed her hand onto the nasal cavity in Charon's face, pressed her lips onto his and slowly blew a generous amount of air into his lungs. Even as she straightened up he coughed and gasped for air, but his diaphragm seemed to be working again.<p>

Setting back on her heels, Freya watched him as he sat up and avoided her eyes, still breathing heavily. He looked uncomfortable.

"Charon?"  
>He cleared his throat, a grating rasp in his ruined voice box. "This shouldn't have happened."<br>She tilted her head. "It could have happened to anyone."  
>"It shouldn't have happened to <em>me<em>." He finally looked at her. "I am trained into seeing such things, and I fucking didn't. If there had been a raider left, you'd have been without protection."  
>Freya shook her head. "I won't have you berate yourself for it. Just be glad it was you who stepped on that thing and not me. Because you are so much taller that it hit you in the ribs and knocked the wind out of you. Me, I'd have had my skull caved in."<br>"I guess you're right", he murmured and slowly laboured onto his feet.  
>"Oh come on." Freya stood up as well and looked up at him. "If it is that contract you're worried about, then I allow you your own fallibility. You're no god, and no machine either, Charon."<p>

He shrugged uncomfortably, as if the shoulder guards of his armour were suddenly too tight. "It's not that."  
>"Then what is?" An unwelcome thought hit her, and she narrowed her eyes. "Is it that you expect to be punished now?"<br>Charon relaxed a little. "No. You've said that you wouldn't." Then he looked past her again. "It's... it's what you did."  
>"What did I... oh." She tried to smile. "Sorry, it was the fastest way to help you. It was a simple medical emergency measure..."<br>"Yes but... I'm a fucking ghoul!" He dropped his arms and stared down at her. "A walking corpse! Doesn't that bother you?"  
>"Well, if it did, I wouldn't have done it, don't you think?"<br>He just stared at her for a few seconds, then he shook his head with a snort. "I think you're the strangest smoothskin I've ever met."

Freya watched him slightly amused as he picked up his weapon. No, she realised, it really hadn't bothered her. Not even in hindsight. It hadn't bothered her to touch him before, as she had patched up that hole in his leg, and it hadn't bothered her now. She could well imagine that a lot of people were reluctant to touch ghouls, to say the least. Outright horrified, most likely. But for some reason, not her.  
>Strange, she thought. If she thought back to her time in the Vault, she never would have been able to even imagine meeting a ghoul, even less touching one. Thinking back, she could well imagine she'd <em>have<em> been horrified herself had she been forced to treat one, but on the other hand...

Gob hadn't horrified her. Mere hours after leaving the Vault she had run into her first ghoul, and he had not bothered her. Not in that way.

"Freya?"  
>"Hm?" She looked up to see Charon stare at her with narrowed eyes. "You just looked as if you'd been on Psycho."<br>"Nothing of the sort. I was just thinking."  
>He cocked his head. "About what?"<br>"About me. And why I'm not bothered by ghouls." Freya tried to smile.

Charon checked the trigger of his gun. "Maybe leaving the Vault has thrown you off your tracks and you just completely lost all of your fucking marbles."  
>At this, Freya had to laugh, clamping her hand onto her mouth and stifling it into a giggle as Charon shot her a look that would have felled lesser men. But even though, after a moment, his mouth twitched into a lopsided grin for a second. Freya chuckled again and checked her Pip Boy. "Gee, it's almost midnight. Do you think it'd be safe to make camp here? I could well imagine that it wouldn't be a good idea banging on GNR's doors in the middle of the night. I'd rather be aboveground in daylight, as well."<br>Charon looked around and then shrugged. "The encampment is already somewhat fortified and we've cleared everything out. I'd say we won't likely find a safer spot anytime soon."

After a day like this, a few mattresses in a corner around an old barrel containing a fire made of rubbish seemed like bliss to Freya, and she flopped down on one of the mattresses and stretched, watching Charon sit down on another.

"Rest now", he said. "I'll watch your back."  
>Lying on her side, Freya watched him as he leaned back against the ramshackle wall, legs drawn up, his shotgun across his knees. It was a strange feeling, having someone to keep you safe. Even if that someone was not actually doing it willingly. That nagged at her.<br>"Charon?"  
>He looked up, eyes deep pools of murky darkness in the dim light.<br>"Would you rather have stayed in the Ninth Circle?"  
>"Fuck, no. I thought I was going slowly mad standing there in that corner." Then he looked down at his shotgun again.<p>

"Do you remember anything about... becoming what you are now?"  
>"No."<br>"Nothing?"  
>"Is that an order to speak?" Charon looked up, his voice as sharp as the look in his eyes.<br>For a second, Freya faltered before she lowered her own eyes and looked away. "No. Sorry."

The fire crackled, and somewhere behind them drops of water hit a metal surface with a soft, rhythmic tapping.

"I only remember pain."  
>Freya looked up again, but he wasn't looking at her.<br>"Pain, and somehow a feeling that the pain was lessening when I did what I was told. Other than that, I remember nothing."  
>"That there really are people who could do that to another human..." Freya sighed, fighting down a helpless feeling of anger. "Most likely they drugged you when using pain to break your will." She clenched her fists, then looked down at them and opened them again with a sigh.<br>"What would you know about it", Charon scoffed, finally looking at her again with narrowed eyes. "What do you know about pain. What do you know about the breaking of wills."  
>"Pain?" Freya mustered him, and narrowed her eyes in return. "Not much. But breaking of will? Also called mental conditioning, by the way. I know about that. I do know that cumulative exposure to certain social conditions instils in individuals an ensemble of durable and transposable dispositions..." she took a breath, "... that internalize the necessities of the extant social environment, inscribing inside the organism the patterned inertia and constraints of external reality."<p>

Charon didn't blink for almost ten seconds. "What?"  
>"In plain words?" Freya scowled. "It means I know how brainwashing works. I'm from a Vault, remember?"<br>"Hard to forget, what with the fucking Vault pyjamas and all."  
>"Pyjamas?<br>"Suit. Whatever."

"Charon..." Freya sighed again. "I'm not telling you this to show off how smart a girl I am, I..."  
>"Yeah, I know", he interrupted her. "It still doesn't make a fucking difference."<br>"I only want to help you", she said softly.  
>Charon didn't reply, and after a while, Freya laid back onto the mattress.<p>

"You're the first employer ever to think about this", Charon said after what seemed like half an hour of silence.  
>"That's probably because I grew up in a safe, sheltered environment where helping others for the sake of helping them was a reward and not a major nuisance."<br>Fiddling with a strap of his armour, Charon shrugged. "Maybe."  
>"And maybe thinking that living in a steel sarcophagus without ever seeing the sun or the sky and being observed in every single move you make is a safe and sheltered life is also a kind of being brainwashed?"<p>

Finally, Charon looked up, a small, crooked smile on his face. "Maybe." Then, after a pause, he added: "If I hadn't been ghoulified, I'd be dead long since."  
>Freya sat up again, drawing up her knees and putting her arms around them. "Were you already a ghoul when Azrukhal bought you?"<br>Charon glanced up from the corners of his eyes. "Yes."  
>"What's it like, being a ghoul?"<br>"What's it like?" He narrowed his eyes. "You can't pick your nose when you're bored."  
>Freya took a breath. "I mean... I mean, does it hurt to become one?"<br>Charon scoffed under his breath. "No. It itches like hell when the skin dies off, but then you pretty much stop feeling anything at all. Without skin, the sense of touch is almost gone."  
>Freya stared into empty space before her. "I wish I could find a cure."<p>

Charon stared at her for a moment before he chuckled dryly and without humour. "You should get rid of that selfless idealism, kid. The post-apocalyptic wasteland has no place for that kind of attitude."  
>Thinking of Moriarty, Azrukhal, raiders, mutants, slavers and the people who had made Charon what he was today, Freya suppressed a sigh. "I know", she replied, her voice no more than a whisper as she laid back onto the mattress again and stared at the ceiling, studying the patterns of paint that peeled off in strangely shaped flakes.<br>"Go to sleep", Charon said, his voice almost gentle.

Freya closed her eyes.


	7. Chapter 7 Bad Vibrations

Reaching the GNR Plaza had proven to be a major pain in the backside, and Freya had soon enough realised that without Charon, she would most likely not have made it. He was completely unfazed by whatever creature was coming for them, putting mutants, feral ghouls or raiders down with cool, effortless efficiency. She couldn't help an occasional jolt of jealousy at the ease with which he moved and used his weapon. On the other hand, she knew well that this was nothing she ever could. Not with a hundred years of training.

After running into the group of people in power armour who called themselves Lyon's Pride, a part of the Brotherhood of Steel, Freya decided to stick close to them as they were headed the same way she was anyway. Despite being bugged by the way their leader talked down to her, Freya knew well that it was all too justifiable ordering her to stay back. With her only weapon being a 10mm she was very unlikely to kill any of the green fell beasts, so she did stay behind, with Charon at her back.

"I don't like the look of this place", he murmured, after the Pride had cleared out the plaza. "Something's not right."  
>His words proved to be too true only moments later, as an unearthly roar tore through the silence that hung on the plaza after the battle, followed by Sarah Lyons' scream "BEHEMOTH!"<br>Freya was not a little surprised when Charon suddenly grabbed her, literally by the scruff, and dragged her behind a heap of rubble between two collapsed walls.  
>"Stay out of sight", he snapped. "Don't move!"<p>

Freya was just about to ask what the hell was going on when she felt the earth tremble and heard that roar again. Seconds later, she suddenly knew what a behemoth was and felt no inclination whatsoever to disobey Charon's command to stay out of sight while he stood protectively in front of her, firing rounds of lead into the creature together with the power armoured warriors around him.

Sick with fear sitting deeply in her gut, Freya watched Charon calmly reload his weapon in the chaos of the fight; he had, after making sure she wouldn't leave her hideout, closed in on the beast, but the monstrosity didn't even slow down under the onslaught of the people battling it. Something ice-cold, some ancient, primal fear trickled into her brain and down her spine as she watched the monster pick up one of the knights and throw it at the others like a puppet, the body landing twisted on the ground not too far away from her. It was the young woman who had introduced herself as Initiate Redding.

Even clad in power armour though the figure was, Freya knew at a single glance that she was beyond any medical help, a broken, shattered shell that until seconds before had been a living, breathing person. Freya swallowed her tears, tears of pity and of panic, when she heard someone scream towards her across the plaza.

"Pick up the Fat Man! Take it and shoot the beast"  
>Fat Man... the weapon.<br>Freya felt too petrified with fear to move, but Lyons screamed again at her, reloading her weapon, to take it and fire for god's sake. She was the closest to it, the beast had somehow moved between the rest of the Brotherhood and Redding's corpse.  
>Freya was the only one who could reach it.<p>

But help, she couldn't. Even as she dared to leave her hiding place behind the rubble and take the gun, she felt she could hardly lift it with two hands, there was no way she could possibly bear it on one shoulder and fire it. Even as she stood there, staring helplessly at Redding's corpse, she felt a hand on her arm.  
>"Give me that thing and get into that house. Duck behind the wall, and don't come out until I say so."<br>"But..."  
>"Now!"<p>

Charon hoisted the Fat Man onto his right shoulder and cast a look back at her as he hefted it. "Go for cover! If you don't have an immediate death wish, get the fuck behind a wall and don't come out!"  
>"Charon, what <em>is<em> that thing?", Freya asked as she took a step back, the panic slowly returning while around them the hell that had broken loose moments before was culminating to a pandemonium of horror with screams and shots, bullets, laser beams and the roaring of the monster that swung a fire hydrant like a club. Some ricocheting bullets whizzed past and they both ducked instinctively.  
>"That thing fires mini nukes", Charon roared. "So get away or the radiation will kill you!"<br>"But the others..." Freya began, taking another step back.  
>"They have fucking power armour! And I'm a fucking ghoul! Now get into that house!"<p>

The urgency in his voice finally reached her brain, and Freya stopped arguing. She would be no hero, not in this fight especially, and she dashed for cover into one of the houses behind them, cowering down with her back to the wall. Only seconds later a tremendous explosion seemed to shake the very foundations of the earth under her, followed shortly after by a second one. A shudder went through her at the sudden silence following the second shot, and after a heartbeat, she heard a groan and a heavy thud that shook the walls of the house around her. Dust motes and crumbling plaster rained gently down on her, trickling down her shoulders.

And after that, silence.

Silence in which Freya could hear all too well the clicking of the Geiger counter on her Pip Boy. A hasty check assured her of no lethal levels of radiation, but she thought it probably a wise idea to find a clinic as soon as possible to have that checked and if possible, treated. Charon had not been exaggerating.  
>Swallowing heavily, she let her head drop against the wall and closed her eyes, but only for a moment. She looked up again at the sound of slow, heavy footsteps, and found Charon looking down at her with concern.<p>

"You all right, smoothskin?"  
>"I'm all right", Freya said. "Of sorts." She took the hand he offered to her to help her up. "Thanks."<br>"We made it." He checked his shotgun and gave her another scrutinizing look.  
>"Thanks to you", she replied and tried to smile. "I'll promise to get better at following your orders the next time. I know it was a close shave."<br>Charon narrowed his eyes. "Following my orders? If anyone's going to do the ordering it's going to be you. I was just saving your arse."  
>"Yeah, and if I would have had to do the ordering just now, we'd all be dead", Freya gave back, realising how bitter she sounded. "From now on... if it's regarding my... or rather, our survival, you order me all you see fit."<br>He took a deep breath, but didn't reply. Freya shrugged and avoided his questioning look as she pushed past him outside again.

Somewhere deep inside, Freya suddenly knew she was going to die. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But this world was going to be her death, at one point in the very near future, she would run out of luck, would make a mistake, and she would be history.  
>With drooping shoulders, she dragged herself forward towards the doors of the building, somehow knowing that she would not find him here.<p>

Passing the corpse of the behemoth, she felt there was no chance of prolonged survival, and if she didn't find her dad soon, survival seemed somehow irrelevant.  
>Freya had no desire to be alone out in this hell.<p>

**x:o:x:o:x**

Since she had been expecting this, the disappointment Freya felt when she learned her father had only been passing through was limited to a few moments of gritting her teeth and clenching her fists. But to go on some kind of ridiculous suicide mission for that crazy guy to get the information she needed?  
>No way. Freya was tired of being led by her nose and send higgledy-piggledy from A to B and back.<p>

"You really have a way with words", Charon said to her as they had left the building. "I didn't think he'd spit it out without you doing him that stupid favour first."  
>Freya shrugged, watching him collect a few weapons from the dead mutants littering the plaza. "It's about the only thing I'm good at, I guess."<br>Charon narrowed his eyes and straightened up again, stowing a couple of grenades in a pouch at his belt. Freya looked away and crossed her arms.

"Hey kid." He walked around her, tilting his head. "What's the matter? You said yourself you should have been a doc in the Vault. Some smooth talker to help people sort out their emotional shit, or whatever. Firing nukes at a mutated monster wasn't in the training, was it? That's why you have me. I do the shooting, you the talking."  
>"No." Freya felt the ghost of a smile creep onto her face. "This wasn't in the training. But this world doesn't need a smooth talker. People sort out their emotional shit with ammunition, not words. I'm about as useful out here as a thousand spoons when all you need is a knife."<p>

Charon stared at her for a second, then shook his head and stooped to pick up a rifle. But as he watched her walk away and followed her he saw her stooped shoulders and heavy, tired gait. He hoped she would come out of it, she would have to, or she would not survive.  
>But for the first time for as long as he could remember, Charon felt sorry for someone.<p>

**x:o:x:o:x**

They stayed closely to the river on their way to Rivet City, and while doing so, Charon taught Freya the basic principles of the art of sneaking up on an enemy. Due to her small frame she probably would be able to move swiftly and noiselessly at the same time but lacked the proper training to be efficient. To demonstrate how useful that skill could be, he vanished a couple of times only to creep up on her and grab her from behind, and the first time he did that, she almost had a heart attack.

Her horrified girlish shriek had embarrassed her to no end, but after they had agreed that an ability to handle being crept up upon was as useful as being able to creep up on someone else, he kept on doing it until after a few attempts she stopped screaming and started reacting first.  
>It was her first feeling of success after that radroach experience, and the feeling of being able to learn something that would her help survive brought her back from the abyss of despair upon whose brink she had been teetering.<p>

His footfall behind her was gone again, she realised, and gripped the handle of his combat knife a little tighter, expecting the ambush anytime now. She kept on walking, however, but strained her senses for anything out of the usual silence that was only broken by the sounds of the river and the wind.  
>At the hardly perceptible sound of crunching gravel behind her she spun around and swung the knife upward in a ruthless stroke, remembering his instructions and for the first time able to implement them. (He had told her to really try and stab him, if he couldn't handle the attack of a girl hardly more than half his size he deserved being gutted, a statement that had Freya unsuccessfully try to emasculate him.)<p>

Charon growled as the knife slashed past his chin, and it took him a second to regain his balance. Within another heartbeat, he had both her wrists in an iron grip of each hand and was about to lift her bodily off the ground. But something had clicked in Freya as she had slashed out for his throat, seeing the blade whizz past his face and the look of surprise in his eyes, and instead of dangling helplessly from his hands she drew her right leg back and shot it upright. Due to the fact that Charon had had to rebalance himself after the attack and picking her up he stood with slightly spread legs, and her shin connected with his groin in a full, fleshy smack which made him double over with a groan.

Managing not to topple over as she hit the ground Freya drew her own weapon, and as Charon looked up again, he looked straight into the mouth of her pistol.

"Good work, kid", Charon said as he straightened up, his voice sounding slightly strained. "No one would expect a move like that from a small girl like you."  
>Freya holstered her pistol and tilted her head. "Not even you?"<br>"Do you think I enjoy having my balls kicked out of my fucking ears?" Then he took a step forward, obviously intent on giving her another lesson, and grabbed her shoulders.

This type of attack was something Freya had kind of dealt with before. Butch had tried that several times with her, but definitely for the last time after she had secretly asked Officer Gomez for a tip how she should deal with that kind of situation.  
>She went completely limp, letting herself practically fall, and as she was hanging from his hand that brought him off balance again for a second. She kicked again before he could regain his balance, but this time, he expected it and, being faster and more experienced in this, clamped his knees together as her leg shot up, which blocked her attack but made him loose his balance completely. With a heavy thud, they both landed in the gravel and Freya couldn't suppress a helpless giggle. Charon was even almost grinning himself.<p>

But then Freya suddenly realised that he was lying flat on top of her, propped up on his hands on each side of her face, their legs entwined and their faces only inches apart. The giggle died in her throat, and at the same moment Charon, too, realised what kind of predicament they had brought themselves into and rolled so hastily down from her that he nearly broke her left knee. Looking even more stricken at her sudden yelp of pain, he extended a hand to help her up but did not meet her eyes as he did so.

Feeling her own cheeks burn with embarrassment Freya herself did not really dare to look up either, and they mutely set off, following again the track at the riverbank. After they had been walking in an uncomfortable silence for quite a while, she finally found her speech again.

"Do you think that would have worked on a real enemy?"

Charon shot her a sideways glance and shrugged. "Hard to say. But since I'm taller and stronger than you and you still got the better of me, I'd dare to say... maybe yes. But the real question is: Will you be able to pull the trigger? 'Cause that's the only thing that's going to save you then."  
>Freya nodded thoughtfully, not really comforted. "I really hope I'll never need to find out." Then she looked up at Charon, watching his profile as he stared straight ahead.<p>

The way his eyes flicked back and forth told her he was aware of her watching him, and after a few moments, she looked ahead again when a strange thought brushed her consciousness: Had it been Butch landing so violently on top of her, she would absolutely and most certainly not have laughed. She would have tried to scratch his eyes out while trying to forever ruin his ability to procreate, but she would not have laughed.

Freya looked at Charon again and, knowing what she knew, wondered if the feelings she occasionally saw were true ones or just behavioural shadows that had remained behind when his soul had been broken and his will annihilated. And even while she might nourish hope of it being the first, she more suspected it was the latter. And while he was no mindless drone, he was certainly without a free will, a being created only to serve and kill.

And with that realisation another one sunk into her mind: That all the times, all those little moments she had looked at him feeling suddenly attracted to that tall, silent man, appearance notwithstanding, she had somehow imagined him to be what he could have been, might have been, a tall, handsome red-haired guy with a will of steel and an easy chuckle. But that man did not exist.

She felt something constricting in her chest, something that hurt her deep down, paired with the feeling of hopeless despair at the realisation she could not help him, that whatever image her wishful thinking had created, it was no more than that: an image. An illusion. And that while she might know how brainwashing worked, and even how you could go about undoing the damage it did to a mind, it was likely that after so long a time nothing in him was left worth saving. All she would likely do was turn him into something no longer fit to survive in a world like this.

Casting a glance at him from the corners of her eyes, Freya watched him, his shotgun resting on his right shoulder as he walked. It was of no use falling in love with this man, because he could not love her back. Not because she wasn't his type of girl, although she most likely wasn't. But because he could love no one, or nothing, for that matter.

But the hard spot in her stomach told her that this warning might already have come too late.


	8. Chapter 8 Deterioration

"State your business in Rivet city!"  
>Freya shot Charon a glance, remembering their earlier conversation.<p>

_"Your business is no one else's, smoothskin. You gotta be a bit more circumspect with asking for what you want, 'cause everyone else is going to use anything they know against you."_  
>"<em>But how am I supposed to find a trace of him if I don't ask?"<em>  
>"<em>Find out first who knows what. No information is free. I thought you'd know that by now."<em>

She had stared up at Charon with unmasked annoyance, but of course he had been right. Now, she stared back at the security chief and lowered her eyelids a little.

"My business is my own. Are you going to let me in or not?"  
>"All right, all right. Just don't give me any reason to throw you out again."<br>Freya nodded and started past him, but the guard held out his weapon, blocking her path. "What's that? Who's that shuffler?" He stared at Charon, then at his gun. "He your pet?"  
>Charon stared at him with so much venom in his eyes that Freya was surprised Harknesss didn't drop dead. She stepped between the two, looking at the security chief. "He's my bodyguard. He's coming in with me."<br>"Fine." Harkness lowered his weapon and stood aside a little. "As long as he refrains from eating any brains..."  
>Charon opened his mouth, but Freya shot up a hand to forestall whatever he had meant to say.<br>"You heard him", she snapped. "No slobbering, no growling." Then she looked at Harkness again to avoid Charon's flaring glare. "Can we go in now?"  
>Harkness took another step back. "You cause trouble, you're out of here."<br>"Understood."

She closed the door behind her.  
>"Asshole."<br>"Him, or me?"  
>Charon's mouth twitched. "Him."<br>Freya shrugged. "I guess that's to be expected when you're travelling with a ghoul."  
>"What <em>did<em> you expect?" Charon slung the shotgun onto his back. "Smoothskin."  
>"I guess I expected nothing, 'cause I didn't think." With a sigh, Freya had a look at the various signs. "Science Lab. I guess I'd best start there."<p>

The ship was smelly, the hallways dark and cramped, full of angles, turns and doorways. Freya felt Charon walk so closely behind her that she could smell the leather of his armour and a blend of gunpowder and that musky, coppery smell Underworld was filled with that was so characteristic for ghouls, but in these surroundings she was only glad for his presence. Even to her, having grown up in a Vault, this place felt claustrophobic.  
>Freya suddenly realised that if she found her dad here, she'd likely have to stay here, as well. If she meant to stay with him, which had been out of question until only moments before. But what if he had decided to stay here, work in this lab? She couldn't possibly stand to live here, in this... steel sarcophagus.<p>

This was worse than the Vault. But on the other hand, it had doors.

With a strange feeling of realisation Freya suddenly became aware that even only after two weeks of being outside the Vault, she missed the sun and the sky while stumbling around here in the smelly darkness. She remembered that nauseating feeling of vertigo as she had seen them for the first time, but even after only two weeks, she couldn't bear to be without them anymore. Well, this was something she would enjoy telling her dad when he would say to her he had meant for her remain in the Vault.

Humans were not meant to live under rocks.

**x:o:x:o:x**

"This is driving me nuts." Freya leant against the door to the Science Lab and closed her eyes. "Is he playing hide and seek on purpose?"  
>"My bet is he doesn't know you're following him."<br>"I know." She opened her eyes again. "It was more of a rhetorical question." Then she pushed herself forward, away from the door, and looked up at her companion. "And now?"  
>Charon shrugged.<br>In the following silence, Freya listened to the low noises of the ancient ship. Creaking, groaning steel, here and there a rumble or clanking sound, footsteps hurrying past and vanishing again into the background noise. It was like having been swallowed by a giant, robotic dragon. "I need to get out of here."

Charon followed her wordlessly around several corners, down a couple of hallways and around another corner where she finally found the stairway leading out.

Finally, when she stood on the bridge connecting the ship with the land, Freya realised that she had almost been unable to breathe inside that metal monster. No, she decided. If her dad really meant to come back to Rivet City to stay here, she couldn't stay with him. She couldn't possibly live like that again, encased by steel walls and darkness, no matter that there were doors.

"You should consider visiting their marketplace to trade", Charon said after a few moments. "We have surplus equipment, and you'd need a better gun and maybe some armour."  
>Freya didn't reply at once, but nodded after a while. "Okay. I just can't imagine what kind of armour I'd be wearing without falling over under the weight."<br>Charon snorted under his breath. "Just some leather, to start with. It's better than nothing."  
>She looked up at him again and into his unmoving face. "And get rid of that Vault Suit that's screaming in big, shiny letters: Here I am, a complete greenhorn, come and get me while I'm still wet?"<br>His mouth twitched. "Yeah, that'd be a useful side effect."  
>"Right." Freya almost grinned. "You got me. Let's go shopping."<p>

The place was busy and filled with people whose reaction to Freya's companion varied between distrustful stares and being completely freaked out. Thankfully, the gruff owner of the weapons store was of the first category.

"Need to do some killing, eh?"  
>"Only in self-defense", Freya blurted out before she could stop herself.<br>With burning ears, Freya gritted her teeth as the man called Flak snorted and chortled while laying out various small arms before her, leaving her completely mystified. Admitting her helplessness, Freya looked up at Charon for advice who silently pointed at a .44 magnum pistol.  
>"That one", Freya said, ignoring Flak's raised eyebrows. "And ammo. All you have."<br>A few small packets of ammunition appeared beside the gun. "Anything else?"  
>Freya took a deep breath. "Do you have a set of leather armour my size?"<p>

After scrutinizing her for a while, Flak dug under a table, rummaged inside a box and pulled something out that he examined very critically. "This should do it. Not in the best of shapes, but it's the smallest one I've got. I'll tell you what, hon. I'll fix it somewhat up for you, and you'll think of me whenever you pull down them zippers."

He winked, and despite his words Freya couldn't really be angry with him. In fact, she felt a little flattered that he would flirt with her, but still remained on her guard. The last time she had opened up to someone who had flattered her she had ended up in a small gap between to Megaton shacks with a wall at her back and a drunkard at her front and only the appearance of Simms had forestalled something she'd rather not think about any further.

After a serious amount of haggling Flak took the Freya's old 10mm, the two assault rifles and a couple of grenades in exchange for the magnum, ammunition and the set of slightly worn leather armour. After stowing all this away in her bag, Freya was in a hurry to get back into the light and air outside.

"Aren't you going to put that on?", Charon asked as they descended the rusty stairway.  
>"I am. As soon as I find a cosy little corner slightly out of sight. You surely don't expect me to change in the middle of a busy market place?"<br>She looked up at him, his expression even more stony than usual. "No."  
>"Okay." They had reached the bottom of the stairs, and Freya found that she could stand under the last flight and be shielded enough, since no one else was around.<p>

She looked up at Charon. He looked back.  
>"Uhm. Charon?"<br>"Yes?"  
>"Would you mind turning around?"<br>He blinked twice in quick succession, then hastily turned his back to her.

Shaking her head with a tiny smile, Freya began to undress. "Have you ever before had a female employer?", she asked then, unable to reign in her curiosity.  
>"Technically one", was the reply.<br>"And non-technically?"  
>Charon cleared his throat. "I had an employer who had a woman, and she considered all that was his also as hers."<br>"Oh." Freya struggled with the zippers of the leather jacket. "Did you have to obey her as well?"  
>"He ordered me to."<br>She stopped and stared at his back. He didn't move a single muscle. "Did she..."  
>"Yes."<p>

Staring at the zipper in her fingers, Freya didn't know what to reply, if a reply was necessary at all. What could anyone possibly say to this? And how could anyone in their right mind use another person that way, a person who could not, under any circumstances, say no? Wishing that she hadn't brought that topic up, Freya finished putting on the suit of leather, realising as she did so that it fitted not too badly.

"Right. It's a little loose in the shoulders and a little tight in the... uhm... nether back region. Otherwise it fits nicely." She stepped around him and did a silly pirouette. "See?"  
>"I see", the ghoul said darkly.<br>"What's wrong?"  
>Freya tilted her head, and Charon looked suddenly a little uncomfortable.<br>"If I have to shoot anyone looking at your arse, smoothskin, I'd be out of ammo by noon."  
>Freya stared at him like a dumbstruck idiot for a moment before twisting her head around and squinting down her shoulder. "What?" Then she looked back up at him. "Are you telling me I have a nice arse? My arse would turn a head out here?"<br>"Smoothskin, _any_ arse out here will turn heads when it's attached to a woman, at least if she doesn't look like a crossbreed of a ghoul and a deathclaw. That arse being squeezed into black leather doesn't help."  
>"Oh great." Freya sighed in half-amused, half annoyed exasperation. "Now you got to be the defender of my life <em>and<em> my virtue."  
>"Yeah", the ghoul said and shouldered his massive shotgun. "Fucking best employment I've ever had."<br>But Freya noticed the glint in his eyes, and smiled ever so sweetly back. "Let's go."  
>"As you wish."<p>

**x:o:x:o:x**

He was dead. There was no way he could still be alive, the place was, according to Charon who had scouted a little ahead, swarming with super mutants.  
>He was dead. If he really had gone in, he'd be dead, had been dead long since, had probably been killed as she had sat in a miserable, crumbled heap in Megaton, or in a miserable, crumbled heap on the GNR Plaza, hiding behind a wall. He was dead, killed by the creatures inhabiting the memorial, for if he hadn't gone in, realising the place was overrun, why had he not gone back to Rivet City?<p>

Freya chewed her lower lip and tried to summon the courage to follow Charon into the memorial building. The prospect of finding her father's body there, knowing what she did about what these beasts did to their captives even long after their suffering had ended made her feel nauseous with anguish.

"Think you can handle this?"  
>She looked up at her companion, swallowed the lump in her throat and tried a brave smile, failing utterly. "No", she said. "But I have to try."<br>Charon gave her a long, scrutinizing look, but nodded. "Stay behind. Would be better if that pistol of yours had a scope, but it hasn't, so that's that."

Freya nodded, her heart in her stomach, and followed Charon as silently as she could. In a low crouch, they sidled down the descending corridor and peeked cautiously around the corner. Freya could see three of them at a glance, but what she also saw was the computer terminal right above her head. She squinted up to be able to read the pale green writing.

"What are you doing?" Charon hissed at her as silently as he could.  
>"Turret control system", she whispered back, her hands shaky with fear of being detected. She crouched as low as possible while reaching up with her hands, staring at the screen from a really unsuitable position. Her fingers tapped slowly and silently, and behind her, she heard Charon curse under his breath as he prepared himself for the onslaught.<p>

It came differently than he had expected. The dormant turrets suddenly came to live as Freya fell back into a low crouch and crept back behind the corner.  
>Freya smiled at Charon, barely hiding a grin of triumph. He gave her a nod in return, and they both advanced again and used the commotion and confusion as the best shield they could have for attacking the mutants. It worked.<p>

The magnum had a serious kick-back; the first shot had it almost break her nose because Freya hadn't expected this. She had to grab her right hand with the left one and summon all the strength she could to be able to aim halfway decently and realised she would need a lot of training with this weapon. But the trade-off was, she could see that the first time she managed to hit, that this weapon did seriously more damage. Having cleared the first room they advanced further, but didn't encounter a large group of them again, not in the upper level and not in the lower level, either.

Freya stopped as she looked through the doorway into a room that looked very much like a derelict clinic.  
>"What's the matter?"<br>She felt a shudder ripple down her spine, geese walking on her grave. "This must be the room where I was born."  
>Charon stepped in beside her. "Maybe. But if you drop your guard like that when entering a room, it's likely going to be the room where you also die. Come on."<br>Freya tore herself away from the fruitless attempt of bringing a lost past back to life, taking something back that had been denied to her for almost twenty years. But Charon was right. Where was the point?

It was in the very last room they entered that Freya found more tapes. A couple had lain in the rotunda, but she hadn't taken the time to listen to them. Now she sat down onto the bed to do so.  
>Only then did she realise that she had found no trace of her father, no body, and no other sign he had ever been here. With trembling hands, she inserted the first of the tapes into her Pip Boy and listened with a trembling lower lip to her father's voice, recording where he would be going to find the knowledge that he sought.<p>

Her tears broke free from her eyes without her being able to hold them back as she heard the woman's voice and realised that it was her mother speaking. For the first time in her live, she heard her mother's voice. And she seemed to be happy. She had been happy. And now she was dead. She had never seen her daughter, never even held her.

Charon stood uncomfortably in a corner and tried not to look at his employer sitting on a bed shedding tear after tear until her whole face was wet and they were dripping down her chin. But he could not help but hear what was on the tapes she listened to, and held his breath when listening to the last one.

"_It wasn't perfect, but it was safe, and that's all I could have hoped for. Now, my daughter is a grown woman. Beautiful, intelligent, confident. Just like her mother. And as hard as it was to admit it, she doesn't need her daddy anymore."_

He waited for her to go to pieces. He expected her to throw herself down onto the mattress and howl and sob. She did nothing of the sort.

"Doesn't need you anymore, does she", Freya whispered tonelessly. "You just went ahead and decided I don't need you anymore so you could go and chase a dream that was shattered twenty years ago. Just left me completely alone, to the whims of people like the overseer." Then she got up and left, taking no notice of Charon, leaving him to follow her on his own accord. And Charon, in turn, looked at her stony face and silently wondered if it hadn't been better if she had gone to pieces. But this emotional shit was unchartered territory for him, so he shouldered his shotgun and focussed on the task he was here for and that he could handle, and that was keeping her safe.


	9. Chapter 9 Failed You

_I found this amazing picture of a pre-ghoul Charon on deviantart and used it as a reference for Freya's daydream further down. I personally think this is the most perfect image of Charon before ghoulification that can possibly exist. Please check it out:_  
><em>http:windfreak(.)deviantart(.)com/gallery/23938922#/d2higns_

* * *

><p>Freya stared at her Pip Boy much longer than necessary, desperately trying to make up her mind if she should go on following him or not. But what else was there she could do? What would happen once she had found him?<br>Pressing her lips together, she stared ahead and sighed. She would confront him with his decisions, of course. Why he had left her behind as he had fled without giving a thought to what his disappearance would lead to behind him, leaving her at the mercy of the overseer and his security staff.

Why he had not thought her worth taking along. He had himself told her on more than one occasion that his daughter was a scientist he was proud of.  
>Why he had not thought her smart or reliable enough to be privy to his plans, at least.<p>

"He cast me aside.", Freya said to Charon who was still standing unmoving and silently behind her, waiting for directions. "He had cast this project of his aside when I was born, and now he has cast me aside for that project of his. I was no more than a by-play, an interlude, a major distraction."  
>Charon blinked, pressed his lips together and then shrugged. "And what the fuck am I to say to this?"<br>"Nothing", Freya gave back with a tired smile. "Sorry, I think I was more or less talking to myself."  
>"So are you still going on with following him?"<br>It took Freya w few moments to formulate her answer. "I have to. Yes, I have to. We might be able to clear things up and go on together, he's my father, after all. But even if we don't..." She shook her head, staring into empty space. "Even if we don't, I have to clear things up and put it behind me. I have no clue what I will do, but I have to put this behind me before I can move on."

"So we gonna find that Vault he talked about?" Charon unslung the shotgun from his back.  
>"Yes. West of Evergreen Mills, whatever that is. Do you know? Is it a town?"<br>"Well." He looked down at her. "Sort of. It's a settlement in an old mine. But it's a bad place. Last time I was there, it was swarming with raiders. We'd best steer clear of it."  
>Freya nodded. "Don't worry. We will."<p>

The shortest and fastest way across the river was to swim across; in the baking heat their gear would dry fast enough even though it was almost evening, and they would have to make camp for the night soon anyway. They had agreed that they would not spend the night inside the memorial, not taking the chance of being caught there by any more of the mutants.

Freya noticed with a mixture of awe and worry that Charon swam with one hand, holding his shotgun over his head with the other to avoid it getting wet. Since you never knew when or where the next attack would come and from whom or what, Freya cursed herself silently for not having done the same with her own weapon, thus rendering it useless for a while due to her carelessness.

The low hanging sun turned the evening breeze into a warm blow and Freya could feel the hair on the back of her neck begin to dry after a short walk. She looked at her pistol and was just about to ask Charon how she could check if it would work again without actually firing a shot a bullet hit the dirt right between her feet.

"Down!" Charon jumped around her and had his gun in aiming position the same moment.  
>Freya crouched behind him, he was the only cover here that she had. A single try confirmed her misgivings about her weapon, even had she been technically able to help him, she had no weapon to do so. A bitter little thought sprang up in her mind and started to pester her: Her father had probably known her well enough to know that she would be pretty useless in this world.<p>

Charon, on the other hand, had already done away with two of the raiders that had attacked them and took the third one under fire. "Bastard!"  
>Freya was craning her neck and checking the radar on her Pip Boy simultaneously, but that seemed to be the last one, at least the last one for now. But even as she was about to release her breath Charon yelled: "Holy Shit!", and the same moment the ground beside her exploded. Momentarily blinded by clods of dirt and clouds of dust and deafened from the booming impact it took Freya a few seconds to realise that the cry of pain she had heard had been Charon's and that the ghoul was lying at her feet.<p>

She fell onto one knee to check Charon's vitals when she heard a sinister voice yell:" It's kill time!"  
>The raider was advancing with a combat knife, having obviously run out of ammunition for his missile launcher. But before Freya could feel grateful for that fact she remembered her useless weapon. He could kill her with his bare hands. The impulse to flee hit her so strongly that she was about to rise when she realised she could not leave Charon to this man's mercy. She could not leave him alone in his state. But she had no weapon, and...<p>

Acting so fast that she wasn't eve able to catch up with her own thoughts, Freya grabbed Charon's shotgun and brought the weapon up. It was heavy, awfully so, to say the least, and she knew she had hardly a chance of aiming properly. She waited for another second for the raider to come closer, pointed the gun at his midriff to have the largest possible target and pulled the trigger.

The damage the weapon did on that short distance was disastrous. His right arm was torn off at the elbow, and in a gush of gore and blood the raider toppled to the ground, his scream only dying out slowly. The kick-back of the gun brought Freya off balance and she had landed on her backside, and when she slowly got up, feeling absolutely horrified, she stared at the mutilated corpse that just stopped twitching.

She had done this. She had spilled his blood, she had stopped his heart.  
>She had killed a man.<p>

"He was trying to kill us", she heard herself say in a tiny voice, as if she needed to apologize.

"Good job, kid. It was him or you."  
>Freya spun around at the sound of a rasping voice behind her. Charon was looking at her, propped up onto one elbow. She knelt down beside him and, ignoring his feeble protest, unbuckled the straps of his armour before removing it very cautiously from his upper body. There were no visible wounds, but when she carefully probed his chest, he winced.<br>"You've got some cracked ribs, I'm afraid." Then she gently pressed two fingers into his abdomen in several spots. "Does that hurt?"  
>Charon shook his head.<br>"Good." She straightened up again. "No internal injuries." Her stare was empty. "Just a few cracked ribs."

Charon carefully sat up, ignoring the pain in his ribs. "Are you all right, smoothskin?"  
>"No", she whispered.<br>He tilted his head. "Freya?"  
>She took a deep breath. "I was brought up to believe that a peaceful solution to every conflict is possible and preferable. To believe in the sanctity of life and physical integrity. To be respectful, honest and polite." As she was staring straight ahead, her mouth twisted into a bitter smile. "And now look at me. In this world, I have to tolerate slavery, prostitution and abuse, I have to lie, to betray, and I have to kill. I... I have to kill."<br>Then she began to shiver and her voice rose, becoming almost shrill despite the fact she was still whispering. "I have to kill. God, I have killed. I have killed! I have killed!"

"Freya!"  
>She flinched when two hands suddenly grabbed her shoulders to hold her steady, only then did she realise she had begun to tremble violently.<br>"Can you maybe wait with your fit of hysterics until I have my armour back on and we have moved to a more secure location?"  
>Freya stared at him like a dumbstruck idiot for a few seconds before her brain began to work again. She shook herself like a wet dog and rubbed her hands down her face.<br>"Sorry", she mumbled through her fingers. "Sorry, I've just..."  
>"Yeah." Charon's voice was low. "It takes a few people that way. Just let's go. Don't look at the corpse again."<p>

**x:o:x:o:x**

They passed Megaton around noon, but Freya dismissed Charon's suggestion of taking a rest there and was determined to reach the Vault before dusk, pushing herself harder than she ever would have thought possible.

Because if she kept on pushing hard enough, it kept her mind off her memories, and of the death scream of a dying man, killed by her hands.

It was mid-afternoon, and for the whole day nothing more dangerous than a few molerats or radscorpions had molested them, that Freya realised, when she cast a glance at Charon, that he kept his lips pressed tightly together and was walking very slightly slumped. And with that she suddenly realised she had made him walk the whole day without a break, and in a rather fast pace, with several cracked ribs and contusions. Her face burned in shame as she realised this, shame that also crept into her belly and lodged itself there like a heavy, burning stone.

He looked at her when he realised she had stopped.  
>"Charon, I..." Freya bit her lip. "I think I was... trying to run away."<br>Her companion slowly tilted his head. "I'd say that, too."  
>"But you're wounded, and I wasn't being..." She swallowed and looked up at him. "I wasn't being fair. You're wounded, and I..."<br>"Fair..." Charon straightened up to scan their surroundings with a practised glance. "This world's not fair. Should know that by now."  
>"I do", she snapped. "Oh yes, I do know this world isn't fair. But that's no excuse for lugging you through the wastes that way with several cracked ribs."<br>"I've had worse", Charon replied. His face betrayed nothing, but Freya sighed again.

"Maybe. But I've promised myself I'd treat you decently, and what do I do? I..."  
>"Hold it, please", the ghoul interrupted her. "You've no reason to be so apologetic. I'm supposed to be able to deal with stuff like this. The wastes are neither fair nor are they safe, kid. Sometimes you've got no choice."<br>"No. Sometimes you don't have a choice. But in this case, I had. Will it make a difference if I find dad today or tomorrow, if I find him at all? It doesn't. Will it make a difference tomorrow if you hurt like hell or not when you've got to save my stupid arse again? It does. It very well does!" Freya felt like hitting something in her frustration, a worrying sensation as she had never tented towards aggressive behaviour before. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. "So here's what we do: We search for a suitable spot and make camp. Then I'll bind up your ribs, you take some rest, and tomorrow, we'll move on to find him."

"Whatever you say", Charon replied levelly.  
>Freya looked up at him with tight lips. "You think this is a bad idea?"<br>"No." He checked his shotgun. "If we go back to Megaton now, we'll be back after nightfall and the gates will be closed by then."

With a nod, Freya looked around and asked Charon what a suitable camp spot could look like. After roughly half an hour of walking around, Charon found a spot that was to his liking, a small rise topped with some rocks that they could use as shield and windbreak.  
>Obediently he then removed his armour and let Freya bind up his upper body with some of the precious bandages she had hoarded. It wasn't comfortable, but it lessened the pain. He insisted on putting on his armour afterwards, but lay down to give his body a rest.<br>Freya sat back on her heels and dug around in her pack until she found a few bottles of water. She offered Charon one.

"That the purified stuff?"  
>She nodded.<br>"Keep that to yourself, smoothskin, I can do with the unfiltered water."  
>"I don't have any unfiltered water", she replied, still holding out the bottle.<br>"Too bad. Radiation applied internally probably wouldn't have been a bad idea."

Tilting her head, Freya looked at the bottle of water. "I thought ghouls were immune to radiation?"  
>"Radiation doesn't harm ghouls. But what it does is regenerate us."<br>"You're... healed by radiation?" Freya stared at him in fascination. "But if so, why can't you be completely restored by it?"  
>"You tell me, smoothskin. You're the smart scientist from the Vault." Charon narrowed his eyes.<br>Freya blinked, but then lowered her gaze. "Sorry, I..."  
>"Can you not please stop apologizing for every other word you say?" Charon let his head fall back. "What the fuck happened to you back in that Vault? You've been at the asses' end of every bully joke the guys ever pulled?"<p>

Freya still stared at the bottle of water in her hands and watched her knuckles turn white as her grip tightened. "In fact... yes." Smart as a genius, her father had said. And a lot of other people, and they had been right. As thick as a short plank, Butch had said. And god, had he been right, too.

When she finally dared to look up again, Freya found Charon watch her with an expression on his face she could not identify.  
>"Kid", he said slowly, "You need a better ego. Fast."<p>

She stared back, tasting a cold bitterness in her mouth. But she couldn't think of a reply, so she stowed the bottle away again and pulled out another one, a glass bottle that emitted a soft, bluish glow. She held this out to Charon.  
>"Here. I think it's a soft drink, or it was a soft drink, anyway. It's irradiated, and I wouldn't drink it, I just kept it out of curiosity. In terms of internal radiation, this is all I can offer."<br>Charon carefully sat up again and took the offered bottle. To Freya's utter amazement, he popped the bottle cap off with his bare fingers.

"Ungh." He stared at the bottle in utter distaste after the first sip, yet he emptied the bottle and lay back again. "Thanks, kid."  
>"Does it work?" Freya leaned forward.<br>"Think so."  
>"Okay." She leaned back to rest her back against the rock. "You sleep now, and I'll keep watch. I..." She shuddered involuntarily. "I can't sleep right now, anyway. At the slightest sign of trouble, I'll make a fuss and wake you, okay?"<br>"Okay." Charon closed his eyes, but didn't let go of the shotgun in his right hand.

It didn't take long for Charon's breathing to turn into soft, low snores, and Freya watched him sleep. The sinking sun was shining right into her face, but Freya kept looking at her sleeping companion, his regular breathing, the rising and falling of his chest, the remnants of his reddish hair that stirred in the breeze.

To occupy her mind and keep it away from her nightmarish memories, she studied Charon's face and tried to mentally reconstruct his features as they might have been before his mutation took away his face.  
>Broad, square chin; broad, high cheekbones. Deep set eyes, but a brow ridge that was not too prominent. The nose was left completely to her imagination, as was the colour of his eyes. But when she closed her own to imagine a man that fitted this description, she found it all too easily achieved. There he stood, clad in black leather, with an untidy shock of red hair, and he winked at her.<p>

With a gasp, Freya opened her eyes, again feeling something cold and heavy lodged deeply in her belly. _Stop that_, she scolded herself. _Stop that now. That's not him, it never was, it'll never be. Stop fantasising and concentrate on the here and now. Silly, stupid bitch. You should be ashamed of yourself._  
>She <em>was<em> ashamed of herself. But once summoned, the image wouldn't let her be. But maybe, maybe she really would find a cure. Something. Something to help the ghouls back to their old appearance.

Maybe.

He would never fall in love with her, but maybe she could give something back to him in restoring his body back to the way it had been. Maybe. Her dad could surely help her. Yes, she would help him finish this Project Purity, and once that was up and running, he would help her find a cure. She smiled. Yes, that would work. It sounded just fine. Together, she and her dad would find something. Yes.

Her eyes becoming tired of the glaring sun that stood low over the horizon, Freya closed them for a few seconds.

**x:o:x:o:x**

A low thumping noise and a muffled, cut off groan startled her upright again, and she realised it was almost completely dark around her. Cold fear hit her like a slap in the face.

She had fallen asleep. Her throat went dry as she realised what she had done. She had ordered Charon to sleep, told him she would keep watch, and had fallen asleep. And now, there was a guy standing next to him who had knocked him unconscious with the butt of his rifle. She grabbed her pistol, but at that moment something very round and small and very cold and metallic touched the side of her neck.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, sweety."


	10. Chapter 10 Rock Bottom

_**Thanks for the reviews, favs and alerts so far, folks! I'm happy someone there likes my stuff enough! Hope you'll continue_** to do so**_... Oh, and the rating is changing to M from this chap on, for safety reasons.**_

* * *

><p>In her desperation Freya felt almost like fainting, almost wished she would, to spare herself any more of the feeling of horrified shame and guilt.<br>She had fallen asleep.  
>Tears of fury, disappointment of herself and anguish burned in her eyes and she tried to blink them away. There seemingly was no end to her stupidity, and tonight she would be paying the price for it. She, and Charon too. God, had they killed him already?<p>

"There's only the two of them, Dave."  
>"Fine."<p>

Freya heard steps of another man which increased the count of their enemies to three. Then someone lighted a torch and held it up, and she could see that there were four of them, in all. They didn't look like raiders, in particular, but they did look very unpleasant and dangerous, armed heavily as they were.

"Sweet Jesus", the man with the torch said. "A pretty girl and a big tough guy in one go. They're worth a fortune, Dave!"  
>"Forget it, Freddy."<br>"What?" That was the man who had knocked out Charon, and he got up to look at the man who seemed to be their boss. "You can't be serious! Freddy's right, they _are_ worth a fortune!"  
>"I said forget it! We're not going back to Paradise Falls anytime soon and we're not going to lug them around to Richmond. Check their gear and then finish them off."<p>

Closing her eyes, Freya felt a tear slide free from under her right eyelid, followed by one from the left. This was it. She was about to die, and Charon would die with her. Just because she had fallen asleep. Just because she was even to useless to keep her eyes open when she had to.

"Holy fucking shit!"  
>Freya opened her eyes again and blinked her tears away, but Charon had not magically sprung to life and was about to throttle all of the slavers with his bare hands. Instead, the man standing next to him had turned him around with the butt of his gun and was now staring down at him.<br>"Fuck, it's a fucking shuffler!"  
>"Are you kidding me?" The man called Dave walked over to inspect the unconscious Charon. "Jesus Christ on a piece of toast... a shuffler travelling with a little girl." Then he turned to face Freya with narrowed eyes while scratching his paunch. "You're travelling with a zombie?"<br>It took Freya a while to get her wits remotely together, enough at least to answer him. "Yes. I travel with him. He's my bodyguard."

At this, the whole group of slavers broke out in either whooping laughter or grunting snickers. Freya chose not to talk unless ordered to and tried to frantically think of something that would stop the slavers from killing him.  
>"Now I've seen it all", Dave said slowly. "I wonder if anyone is going to believe us down south."<br>"Not likely, unless we take them along", the one beside Charon said. "Maybe we could make them..."  
>"I told you, forget it, and that goes for you, too, Bob. Take their stuff and let's get on the road again."<br>"Oh well", Bob said in a resigned voice and pointed the mouth of his rifle at Charon's ear. "Too bad, if you ask me."

"NO!" Freya almost jumped up, she had completely forgotten the gun pointing at her own head. But due to her hasty movement the shot missed, the man had obviously been off guard for a moment. A hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled her roughly down again. "That's it, bitch", the man growled in her ear and cocked the gun.  
>"No", Freya said again, feeling cold sweat break out all over her body. "No, don't kill him! He's valuable, he really is! Don't kill him!"<p>

A few seconds of silence was enough to make Freya feel sick to the bones. The man called Bob still pointed his rifle at Charon's ear, and she could see the ghoul twitch as he was beginning to wake up.

"Don't kill him. He's a real asset, you know. I bought his contract, and he's loyal to whoever holds that contract. He'll obey anyone and do anything you ask of him without questioning. I paid three thousand caps for that contract!" Her heart was racing so fast that Freya felt that anytime now she had to drop dead from exhaustion. She had never been so afraid in her life, she had never been that close to dying.  
>"You don't say", Dave replied in a slow drawl and looked down at Charon who had just opened his eyes, but feeling the rifle pointing at where his ear used to be, had not moved an inch. He cast Freya a look that would haunt her into the grave and beyond. "And where, pray, is that contract you talk about?"<br>"I have it on me. Don't kill him. He's too valuable."  
>"I won't, not just yet. Just hand over that contract and we'll see about killing or not killing him."<p>

"Freya, no."  
>Freya looked up at Charon and shook her head. "I'm sorry Charon, I have to. They'll kill you."<br>Then, moving very slowly, feeling the weapon of the man behind her still pointing at the back of her neck, she reached inside her suit and pulled the old, tattered piece of paper out of her bra. Likewise slowly, she held it out to Dave who walked over and took it, then stood beside Freddy to read the contract in the flickering light of the torch. She did not look at Charon again.

"Will you look at that", Dave said. "Will you fucking look at that." Then he looked down at Charon with a very speculative look. "To whoever holds that contract, yes?"  
>Seeing the contract in his hands, Charon could do nothing else. He nodded.<br>"That means, I'm your..." he looked at the paper again, "...employer now?"  
>Charon nodded again.<br>"Jesus fucking Christ." And then Dave began to grin. "I don't believe this. Let him go, Bob."  
>Reluctantly, Bob removed his rifle from Charon's ear canal and stood back, giving the ghoul room to stand up. After realising how tall he was, Dave grinned even more, but all four of them remained on their guard. They had seen more than one successful scam in their lives.<p>

"Okay, ghoul. Just to make sure you really are what that piece of paper says. Go ahead and give that little girl a good cuff on the ear. Should be fairly easy, the way she fell asleep on you."  
>Freya closed her eyes as he approached, but opened them again when Charon stopped before her.<br>"Go ahead", she croaked. "I do deserve it."  
>Charon's face was expressionless; it had turned back into the stony mask she had seen him wear when she had encountered him for the first time, back in the Ninth Circle in Underworld. The clout he gave her made her head spin round and she saw stars for a while, but the pain of shame and guilt in her guts still hurt her more. The tears forcing their way out from between her eyelids had nothing to do with it, either. She would die, and most likely Charon would be the one to kill her. He probably would enjoy it, and she would deserve it.<p>

"You know what, girl?", Dave said while grinning down at her jovially. "For that favour you just did me, we're gonna let you live."

Freya stared up him in desolation, it took the words a while to work themselves into her brain and make sense to her. But even as they did, Freya did not trust them. She allowed herself no hope just yet.

"You're just gonna leave her? Just like that?" That was the man behind her who still had his gun primed on the back of her neck.  
>"When I say I let someone live, Mick, I let them live."<br>"Yeah, I know."  
>Freya could feel him lean close, and suddenly something warm closed around her left breast. She shuddered in revulsion but dared not move away. Listening to their bickering, Freya suddenly wished they had just shot her dead and be done with it.<p>

"But can't we just... you know. She's really fresh meat."  
>"We don't have time for that shit, Mick." Dave folded the paper away and stowed it into a pocket. "Let's get going."<br>"Oh come on Dave, it won't take long", Mick replied with a pout.  
>"With you, it usually don't", Bob replied and all four of them snickered again.<br>"All right", Dave said. "I said alive, not unharmed. But be quick about it."

Freya cast a last glance at Charon, who had taken up position behind Dave, standing like a statue with arms crossed and his eyes staring at nothing, towering over the small, fat man like a greyhound over a pug. If he saw her, he took no notice of her, and even if he had, Freya knew he could have done nothing. As the two men advanced on her and Mick behind her pressed her down, she realised that she never would have thought it possible that someone could regret having being granted life instead of death.

**x:o:x:o:x**

She could hear their voices faintly, but lying on her stomach with her whole body one aching, fiery pain, she couldn't be bothered to look. She couldn't see the point.

"Look at that! And here I wondered where she'd have that amount of caps to buy that contract. She must be a grade A scavenger!"  
>"Wow, That's a lot of meds!"<br>"Good. Take them and then let's be off. We've lost enough time now."  
>"Yeah, but that was the best waste of time we've had in a long time, ain't it, Bob?"<br>A gruff snort. "Yeah, you like the girls new cause you're hung like a gnat. I prefer the ladies a bit more... utilized."  
>"No one forced you to, man."<br>"Fuck off."

Coarse laughter. Retreating steps.

She bid a silent farewell to Charon and opened her eyes, and just to torture herself a little more, lifted her head to see him walk away, following his new master into god knew what fate. "Farewell, Charon", she croaked. "I'd swear I'll find you again if I weren't so useless."

It could have been her own imagination, but Freya thought she could see his shoulders tighten and his head turn ever so slightly. He might have heard her. And then again, he might just be checking the area for threats. Closing her eyes again Freya let her head drop onto the hard-baked dirt and waited for the tears.

They did not come.

**x:o:x:o:x**

Charon wasn't sure if he had heard her last words or only imagined them; in any case, he would rather not look back. No one had told him to watch, so he had chosen to look away, but he had been unable to overhear what had been going on.

Insane, little girl. Why did she have to do that? He could have disarmed the man beside him and shot the one holding the pistol to her head in three seconds flat, and what had she done? Giving up his contract to spare his life. He would never be able to understand her. Gritting his teeth, he realised he would never have another chance even to try.

And Charon hoped he would never again in his life have to hear a woman scream that way.

**x:o:x:o:x**

The sun beat down onto her back but she was unable and somehow unwilling to do something about it. She was hurting all over and wanted to die, but after a few hours roasting in the sun, she realised that she was not injured enough to die. She would have to die of thirst unless she would be able to get onto her feet again and find water.

But whatever for?

Best if her life would be finally over. She had no intention of living with the memories of the last twenty-four hours. They would give her nightmares enough for two lifetimes.

So she remained where she was, lying on her belly in the dirt, and realised that she was beginning to hallucinate. Probably dehydration from the shock and heat... She could hear her mother's voice calling her. Soon her mother's voice was joined by her fathers, but when she opened her eyes and with great effort lifted her head, she saw her mother... or a woman whom she thought to be her mother... dancing with Charon while calling out her name and crying.  
>Freya blinked, and Charon looked at her with an evil grin. "Ya like that, ya bastard?"<p>

Her vision blurred and she blinked, and from the scintillating air in the scorching heat before her another image appeared: Two men and a Brahmin packed with goods. Then her strength left her, and she let her head drop down again.

Steps hurried over. Someone touched her shoulder.

"Want me to put her out of her misery?"  
>"Nothing of the sort! We're civilized merchants, for god's sake. It's only a couple of hours 'til Megaton."<br>"You're the boss, Wolfgang."  
>"Yep, I'm the boss. And you just gonna have to watch our back <em>and<em> the Brahmin for a while."  
>"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say."<p>

Her vision wavered, but before Freya blacked out completely, she felt someone turn her around and pick her up.

**x:o:x:o:x**

Faint voices reached her consciousness.

"Oh no, the poor thing!" A woman.  
>"Jesus! What happened?" A man.<br>"Don't know." Another man. "I found her like that lying face down in the dirt about three and a half hours west of here. I've seen her here before, and I've thought maybe Church could patch her up."  
>"He damn well is going to", the man with the dark, deep voice said. "Thanks, Wolfgang. You did a good thing today."<br>"You know, they call me crazy, and even though I do trading with raiders, I do want to think of myself as a better man than them. Couldn't leave a girl lying in the dirt, especially after... you know."  
>"Yeah. I know." Someone picked her up, she was carried by a pair of strong arms. "Christ, girl, what have you gotten yourself into?"<p>

Freya was too weak to answer, but as she cracked her eyes open, she saw, next to her cheek, a big, silvery star fastened to the coat of the man who carried her.


	11. Chapter 11 From the Ashes

When Freya came to her senses again she realised she was lying in a bed, covered in clean sheets that were cool on her sunburned skin, and around her were the metal walls he recognised as those being characteristic to Megaton.  
>Megaton... how had she gotten here? She was in... she looked around. She was in the clinic...? That explained why she hurt so much, but why?<p>

Like a slap in the face her memories returned and the pleasant haze of having just awoken vanished within a split-second. She doubled over with a whimper, but after a few moments pulled herself together, braced herself and slowly uncovered her body. Her thighs were red on the inside, and her stomach and breasts were covered with bruises, but all in all, it could have been worse. The slavers had not been overly brutal, they hadn't beaten her into submission. They hadn't needed to.

With gritted teeth, Freya let the blanket drop again and remembered that she had been too mortified to resist them, but she remembered also that she had not been able to suffer all that in silence. Her throat still hurt from all the screaming, and when she moved to cautiously touch herself, she was still very sore down there too. But all that would heal. All that would heal, leaving her physically whole, maybe scarred, but largely whole and healed.  
>Leaving her to deal with the memories of her greatest, most shameful failure of her life. These memories and the feelings that they caused filled her consciousness to the brim. There was pain and anger milling inside her, mortification at having been so completely at someone's mercy and being raped by three men taking turns.<br>Churned into this was a self-loathing and a feeling of helpless, desperate fury with herself at her fathomless, unbelievable stupidity.

But underlying this maelstrom of feelings there was a cold, heavy sadness. Sadness over two things: Firstly, there was another dream of hers, crushed beyond return by the wasteland. That was the dream of a girl, wishing to find the man she loved and giving him her virginity. Lost beyond recovery, and to be honest, pretty silly to begin with. But there was a part of her that had died with that dream, however silly it might have been.  
>And secondly, she had lost someone whom she had held very dear. True, Charon was not really dead. But she had to face it, she would never see him again, so he might as well be.<p>

There was nothing else for her than accept that she had been the greatest idiot, had made an unforgivable mistake that had led to her being raped and losing the only companion she had. She still hesitated to call Charon a friend; while she on her part certainly would have liked to do so, she could not imagine him befriending anyone. Charon was no one's friend, as little as he could be anyone's lover.

There it was again, that stab of pain. But there were no tears.

Freya stared at her hands, some of the nails had broken off, and she slowly turned them around to look at the lines on her palms. Somehow, she expected her vision to blur, waited for the tears, but no matter how badly it hurt to remember, still the tears did not come.  
>A strangely detached part of her mind told her that she was still in shock and that the tears would come, eventually, and once they did, her soul could begin to heal as well.<p>

Staring at the wall, her thoughts began to drift away when the door suddenly opened and Doc Church came in. He ran a practised glance up and down her body and rested his eyes on her face as he sat down on the bed beside her.

"How is it?" His voice was surprisingly gentle.  
>Freya tried to smile. "All right. For a given value of."<br>"Of course." To her surprise, Church took one of Freya's hands between his own. "Listen, girl. I know you'll have nightmares, and if they get too much for you, give me a shout. I've got some stuff to help you sleep."  
>Staring at his hands, dark-skinned and warm, covering her own hand, Freya nodded. "Thanks a lot, Doc. I just..." She swallowed and looked up. "I don't think I've anything left to pay you with."<br>The Doc smiled one of his rare little smiles. "Now don't worry about that. Simms is covering it all."

"Simms?" Freya blinked. "The Sherriff? Why would he do that?"  
>"Well, he's a good man, Lucas. Other than that, you'd have to ask him yourself."<br>She nodded again and the Doc released her hand and got up. "Oh and, as long as there's no casualty coming in, you can stay here until you feel ready to sleep in the common house."  
>"Thanks a lot, Doc." Freya felt a lump in her throat; she honestly had not expected so much friendliness and courtesy. But then, during her first weeks in Megaton, she had taken exceptional pains to be polite and helpful to everyone, just as she had been in the Vault, and this was her first experience now where kindness had been repaid with kindness.<br>She watched the Doctor head for the door where he turned around again. "Oh, and Simms is waiting outside, asking if he can speak to you. You all right to see him?"  
>Taking a deep breath, Freya nodded. "At least I can thank him in person now."<p>

Church nodded and went outside, leaving the door open behind him. Freya could hear two low male voices talking before she heard another set of steps and Simms stood in the doorway, casting her a worried glance.  
>"Girl, do you know how lucky you've been that the caravan happened to come that way just then?" He shook his head.<br>"I am", Freya said, although she didn't feel precisely lucky right then. "And I'm grateful you would pay for my treatment here."  
>He waved that aside with a dismissing gesture. "I didn't do that to make you feel indebted, Freya. What kind of man would I be if I let a girl lie outside my gates and leave her to die?"<br>"You'd be one of a kind, I guess, if you don't take advantage of a helpless woman, or just ignore her because you're got your own problems."  
>"No, I'd never do that." Simms looked away for a few seconds before he replied. "I've got to be able to look into a mirror." Then he looked at her again. "Glad you're on the way to recovery, girl. I'll be seeing you around."<p>

With that he left, leaving Freya stare at his back with a nagging suspicion, aroused by the way he had looked away moments before. Her habit of analysing people had kicked in again and set an alarm bell off in her, but she would neither do nor say anything before she had either confirmed or dismissed her suspicion. With a sigh, she lay back and pulled the blanket up to her chin before closing her eyes.

**x:o:x:o:x**

Three days later Freya had left the clinic, unable to stand being locked inside any longer. Megaton in itself wasn't much of an improvement, but at least it had a sky.  
>She had taken a bath and washed her hair, the braid between her shoulders still slightly moist as she wandered down into the crater to pick up something to eat at the Brass Lantern. Simms had told her not to worry about paying, he had made arrangements and everything would be chalked up for him to pay later on. Freya began having a bad conscience, but he would have nothing of it.<br>So she sat there, with the sun warming her back and drying her hair, nibbling on a mirelurk cake while she watched and listened to the strange old man preaching to... or about?... the bomb.

"_...behold the power of atom!"_

And then she remembered that the bomb was still active, and that Simms was constantly watching it, hoping someone would be able to disarm it. Staring at the bomb, Freya slowly narrowed her eyes and stuffed the last piece of pastry into her mouth. Well, it certainly couldn't hurt to look, could it?  
>So she brushed her hands on her leg, snipped the crumbs away and walked over to the bomb where she found the control panel and opened it.<p>

"_...every ear shall be stricken deaf to hear the thunder of his voice..."_

There were a lot of cables, and a lot of connections in between, but what Freya interested most was the little control lamp flashing on and off in a rhythm of about two seconds per flash. Wirings and electronics had never been her strong side, but still, the principle of this was as simple as the effect of it was devastating. There was the cable connecting the main system to the sensor, and that was loose, explaining why the bomb hadn't detonated upon impact.

"_...let these who dwell in this favoured land..."_

Following that cable to the detonator, it was one easy pull to remove the other end, and disconnect another cable that ran from the detonator to the main system. The same moment she pulled out the second cable, the control lamp winked out and Freya released her breath that she had not been aware she'd been holding.

"_...it is the very symbol of atom's glory..."_

As she was about to shut the panel door, however, she realised that apart from the crazy professor, a lot of people stood around her with worried or outright panicked expressions, watching her with a mixture of awe and horror. She was the absolute centre of attention of almost the entire town.

"_...for in the division, we shall see our relief from pain and hardship from this world..."_

Steps came running up behind her.  
>"What are you doing? Are you nuts? Get away from the bomb!"<br>Freya turned around to see Simms hurrying down the ramp. He came to a halt beside her, staring first at her, then at the bomb. "What have you done"?  
>"I... uhm... I managed to disarm the bomb", Freya said quietly and softly closed the control panel.<br>The only one not staring at her was the Professor who was, despite of the happenings around him, still lost in his own world.  
>"You did what?" Simms stared at her like a dumbstruck idiot, before realisation trickled into his brain. "You did? Holy Shit, you did it! She did it!"<br>The people around the bomb began whispering to each other, nudging their neighbours and the whisper rose to a murmur as the people realised that it had happened. The threat of the bomb was gone. One of them started to clap, and some other people started to cheer her.

Suddenly, Freya was a hero.

It was that moment that she realised how afraid the people had been of the bomb and that she remembered how afraid she herself had been of the bomb the last time she had been here. But because she had known no other place and not known where else to go she had stayed, always mortified by the feeling of running around a still active atomic bomb.  
>But now... she had just gone and done it. She had not been afraid... even in hindsight, she failed to feel even a trace of the cold dread she had felt before. And not being afraid, she had seen it was no big deal and done it. Was that the secret of surviving in this world, then? Not being afraid? Had she simply been too afraid of everything and everyone? It seemed that way.<p>

But even though Freya was glad about that change, she could not explain to herself where her fear had suddenly gone, and why it was gone in the first place.

**x:o:x:o:x**

Having her own house meant not having to sleep in the commons, another thing Freya was very grateful for. She still owned nothing more than the clothes she wore, but at least she had a roof over her head and a door to lock behind her.

"Good morning, madam!"  
>Oh... and not to forget, she had a butler. A robot butler.<br>"What can I do for you today, madam?"  
>"Nothing, thanks", Freya replied while rubbing her swollen eyes as she reached the bottom of the stairs.<p>

As expected, she hadn't slept well, and the few hours she had slept had been filled with terrible, painful dreams. She felt a bitter, little smile twist her mouth. For the one time, the only time where she shouldn't have slept and had fallen asleep anyway, she would now pay for the rest of her life with never being able to sleep peacefully anymore.  
>After filling the little basin in what served as the kitchen with water, she stared at her slightly distorted reflection before washing her face. Oh yes, now she was the hero of Megaton. The people loved her. Adored her. And here she felt only loathing for her stupidity.<p>

Because that was all she really was: A cack-handed, half-assed, idiot.

Watching the droplets of water fall from her face she realised she hated her reflection. She hated herself. What had happened to her afterwards was not nearly enough of a punishment. She pulled out the plug and watched the water drain away before turning around and heading for the door. But as she passed her robot, she stopped again.

"Wadsworth, right?"  
>"Absolutely, madam. At your service."<br>Freya narrowed her eyes. "You said you can give me a haircut, right?"  
>"All kinds of different styles, madam."<br>"Right. Where are the components?"  
>A small hatch opened. "Right here madam."<br>"Good." Freya checked the tools, they were all adapted to be installed on one of the robot's arms, but despite that, the clipper worked just fine on its own. She set it to zero and gritted her teeth.

The low buzzing was the only sound for a long while.

"Clean that up", she said to the robot before leaving the house. She had hoped more punishment would make her feel less awful. But she had been wrong.

This was still not nearly enough.


	12. Chapter 12 Forged Anew

She had dreamed of Charon last night.  
>He had been sitting on a rock with his back to her, and she had watched him, how the sun reflected on his armour, how the remaining strands of hair shivered in the breeze. Then he had stood up and walked away, and she had tried to call out to him, to follow him, but she had seemingly turned to stone. Unable to move, to speak, she had to watch him walk away. The sun had set, leaving her alone in the darkness, and then she had heard the shot crack through the night.<p>

She had shot upright, drenched in sweat, for a split second hoping she would finally be able to cry. But there were no tears, and after running her hands through the moist stubbles of her hair, she had fallen back onto her pillow and waited for dawn.

After having spent most of the day sitting on a rock outside the gates, staring at the horizon, she now headed for the saloon. She had no desire for company, not as such, but she felt she could use a drink, and she liked to talk with Gob. She had talked a lot with Gob in the last weeks. Gob was a relief to talk to because he treated her neither like a raw, damaged egg nor like potential prey. Obviously, there were some men who thought after what had happened to her she would be ready to take anything. But Simms had made it clear she was under his protection, and none of them grew too bold, as of yet. But Freya had the feeling it would only be a matter of time. She had bought a knife and badgered Leo Stahl, one of those guys who always played with theirs and showed off tricks, into teaching her some moves.

At least she had the resources again to do so. Stopping on the landing before the door into Moriarty's, Freya leant onto the handrail and stared down into the crater.

"_Hello Moira."  
>"Oh... hello dear... uhm... How are you doing?" Moira looked honestly worried.<em>  
>"<em>Not too bad." Freya walked over to the counter and realised the shopkeeper was watching her with deep concern.<em>  
>"<em>Dear... I know there's probably not much I can do... but if so, you'll just say, will you?" It was as honest as it was clumsy, and Freya almost smiled.<em>  
>"<em>Sure will, thanks a lot, Moira. I guess by now everyone knows what happened."<em>  
>"<em>I guess so. Almost everyone saw Lucas carry you in."<em>  
>"<em>You too, I gather."<br>Moira's looked so sad and tender that Freya wasn't sure the shopkeeper wouldn't break out in tears any moment. "I was there waiting for the caravan, dear. I saw what happened..." Then she looked away._

"_Well." Freya shrugged. "It happened and I have to deal with it. But now I have to get onto my feet again, and with that, I need your help."  
>Moira looked up. "Sure thing, dear. Anything. What's on your mind?"<em>  
>"<em>Are you still working on that Survival Guide?"<em>  
>"<em>Well. It's sort of gone into hibernation without a research assistant to help me."<em>

"_You see", Freya said, not sure this was the best of ideas but at a loss what to do otherwise, just like the first time. "I'll need new gear. I still have to find my father, but all I own right now are this shirt and the pants I'm wearing. So here's my offer: I'll do your research, but I can only do it against prepayment. You give me a gun, some ammunition and armour, and I do the research, and when we agree the equipment is paid for, we'll go on from there. Deal?"  
>Moira smiled. "That's a deal, dear. Oooh, I'm so excited! I'm going to write that book after all!" She instantly began to dig in chests and put several things onto the counter. "Here's a pistol, and the ammo, and here... ungh... that armoured Vault suit you've been eyeing last time." She grinned. "I'm sure it fits. And here's also a hunting rifle, for a safer distance, you know. But I've only got three stimpacks, but here." She then threw something on top of the pile and her grin turned into a slightly strained smile. "Do you want a hat?"<em>

Sure, that woman was insane, but the deal _had_ helped Freya get onto her feet again. She was more or less there where she had started, all those weeks ago, with no more than a pistol and a Vault suit.  
>No, that wasn't completely right, was it? She had definitely more experience, and she wasn't so scared anymore. Sure that had to be worth something?<p>

Oh and of course, she had also lost her virginity and the only friend, well, sort of friend anyway, she had. All in one go, mind. Freya let her head fall back and stared upwards into the stars._  
>I would swear to find you again, only I haven't got a clue how to do that. I've already made so many empty promises I couldn't hold... And if I did, what then? How to get you out of their claws? I couldn't kill that fat bastard, you'd have to kill me for even trying.<em>  
>With an angry sigh, Freya pushed herself off the handrail and turned around to enter the bar.<p>

"Hi Gob!"  
>Gob looked up only slowly, and Freya was instantly worried. Usually, the ghoulish bartender was a bit more cheerful upon seeing her.<br>"Something wrong?"  
>"Nah." Gob avoided her eyes. "What d'ya want, smoothskin?"<br>"A beer." Freya sat slowly down onto the barstool, keeping her eyes on the bartender as he handed her the bottle. She lowered her voice; custom was busy tonight, so they could exchange a few low spoken words if they were careful. "Gob, what's wrong?"

Finally Gob looked up and Freya could see his right eye was swollen shut.  
>With a sigh, she stared at her bottle and gritted her teeth. "What was it this time?"<br>Gob looked nervously around a few times to make sure no one overheard them. "Moriarty had to refund someone on Nova's service 'cause the poor gal refused to do what he wanted. Don't know what it was. Moriarty took it out on her, and I couldn't keep my mouth shut."  
>Freya watched Gob's hands, busy wiping the counter, the movements unsteady and stiff.<br>"For god's sake, don't let it on to Moriarty you know something of this. He'll skin me alive."  
>She looked up and met Gob's eyes, realising there was honest fear in them. She nodded and took a sip of her beer. "As hard as it is, but what could I do anyway?"<p>

Gob shook his head and turned towards Jericho who was walking up to the counter.  
>"Another one, rotface."<br>"Coming right up."

Freya could feel Jericho sidle a bit closer and pretended not to notice and being engrossed in her bottle  
>"Hey kid."<br>She lifted her head, but didn't look at him. "What."  
>"Got any plans for tonight?"<br>Her shoulders dropped back as an angry sigh escaped her. "I have. But none of them involves you. Sod off."  
>"Oh come on, sweets. I'm sure you could use a little cuddle."<p>

Faced with this, Freya had only two choices: Go, or get rid of him. Since she had no intention to flee from that rotten bastard that only left option two, but how to achieve that... he was far more weathered and experienced than her. But he was definitely drunk now. Maybe...

She knew she was not very strong, she would never be. But she was small and nimble, and had arrived at the decision that this was the only thing that could serve to her advantage. She wouldn't be a great fighter, but stealth and speed could work in her favour; she had told that to herself a lot of times during the last weeks.  
>Charon had already begun with teaching her things, and the knife trick Leo had taught her was another step up on that ladder. Would it work in him?<br>Maybe. She was a beginner, but he was drunk. No other way to find out but try.

She turned her head to look at the slightly drunk ex-raider sitting beside her, but even as a smile began to form on his face it dropped dead with Freya's move. It had worked.

A whole afternoon she had spent with Leo on the terrace in front of her door practising drawing the knife in a swift, smooth motion, until she was feeling like screaming at him she didn't want to learn it, after all. But she remembered Charon. She almost always remembered Charon, but in some situations more than in others. At that moment she remembered the look he had given her after he had woken up to a rifle in his face, and how helpless she had been, how defenceless. And she made the silent oath to herself that she would tolerate no more stupid weaknesses like that, ever.  
>So she had gritted her teeth and followed Leo's orders. And now it had paid off.<p>

It had worked.

"I am not Nova's replacement. Go away and leave me alone", she said, slightly increasing the pressure of the blade. "Or you'll have to find out if I can make you wear your balls in a bag around your neck."  
>"Fuck, take the toothpick away, girl. I get it."<p>

Freya sheathed the knife and turned towards her beer again. Jericho silently got off the barstool beside her and left her feeling the first little bit of triumph in a very, very long time.  
>Looking at Gob, she saw he was smiling at her form the corner of his eyes, and she smiled back only for a split second before anyone could see it.<p>

**x:o:x:o:x**

"Okay Moira. That covers up the molerat research and the mirelurk observations." Gingerly, Freya laid the stick with the green goo onto the counter. "But I must say that the molerats seem to be allergic to that stuff. Explosively so."  
>Moira looked a little crestfallen at that her repellent wasn't working as she had planned it to, but that didn't dampen her spirits. Freya wondered if anything ever did.<br>"So," she went on, "the next part is about injury research, isn't it?"

By the way Moira drew in her breath, Freya expected another crazy rant of hers, but her expectations were even excelled. It was ridiculous, as ridiculous as it was dangerous, no way was she going to do this. But she needed Moira, and needed to find a solution. Then an idea struck her and she took Moira by the arm. "Why get myself hurt? I'm a good enough doctor to explain this part for you. Come on, let's just sit down somewhere."

Moira dotted everything down very eagerly, and Freya realised she enjoyed the lecture. It reminded her of happier times, and it certainly kept her mind off other things. The two women spent the better part of the afternoon talking about various injuries, sicknesses and treatments.

"Just remember", Freya admonished Moira as she was about to leave. "Just write everything down like I told you. If you want this book to help people, it is vital that there's no mistakes in this."  
>"But of course, dear!" Moira nodded earnestly. "I don't want to get anyone hurt because I've made a mistake!"<br>"Of course not", Freya replied, but as she left the shop, she had to fight her own qualms at being a part of this madness.

She was sure if that book ever made it into the hands of some would-be adventurers, it would more likely have them killed than anything else. Well, maybe not. Maybe not if she would do a good job and keep an eye on Moira and her 'research' and writing. _And maybe_, she scoffed at herself inwardly, _maybe this is another one of my good intentions that will lead to disaster. For me or worse, for someone else. Would be just like me. _

She shoved this bitter thought aside as she headed for her home to make for an early night. Tomorrow, she would finally go after her dad.

**x:o:x:o:x**

She ran into Simms as she was heading up the ramp towards the gate. It was very early, and apart from the two of them, no one was up yet.

The Sherriff smiled. "Off to another crazy Wasteland Survival Mission?"  
>"No." Freya watched his face become instantly guarded. "I'm going after my father. I was on his track when... things... happened." She swallowed.<br>"I see." He looked past her for a second before resting his worried eyes on her face again. "Are you sure you're up to this already?"  
>"As much as I ever can be", she replied. "Why?"<br>"Well." Simms shrugged. "It seems to me you're not really well equipped for a trip into the far Wasteland like that."  
>Freya looked at her feet for a second. "You're right. But I can't wait forever. With every delay, the track is getting colder."<br>"Sure. But how likely is it that he is still in that Vault, anyway? He might be back in rivet City by now. Don't you think it's worth checking?

Freya bit her lip and scratched the back of her head where the stubbles of her hair itched furiously all the time. Simms was watching this with a carefully neutral face; apart from Gob he had been the only one not to ask what had happened to her hair. It was bloody obvious what had happened, after all.

"I think you're right", she finally said, although she had no high hopes of it really being so.  
>Simms mustered her and then narrowed his eyes. "Say, is that 10mm the only weapon you've got?"<br>She shrugged. "Since the hunting rifle Moira gave me almost exploded in my face it is."  
>The Sherriff made a face at this and told her to wait. As Freya watched him head for his house and disappear inside, she wondered if she should confront Simms about her suspicion or just leave it as if she had no clue whatsoever. Maybe she was wrong after all, and then she would only look like an idiot again.<p>

Simms came back carrying something small, and as he reached Freya he held out a scoped .44 magnum out to her, and in immaculate condition, to boot.  
>"Here", he said. I've not much use for it, and I'd rather you have it and know you better protected than with...", he nodded towards her pistol, "...that one."<br>"I can't possibly accept that on top of everything else", Freya replied, staring at the weapon. "You've done so much for me already..."  
>"Please. If you prefer it, then this'll be the last thing I give you. But please, take it."<br>Freya took a deep breath and accepted the weapon, admitting to herself as she did so that it felt a lot better in her hand than the little, old 10mm. She pocketed the six packs of ammunition Simms handed her and nodded. "Thanks", she said in a low voice. "Thanks a lot. For everything."

The Sherriff gave her a long, intensive look that Freya found hard to return. She almost expected him to try and kiss her, but all he did was put a hand on her shoulder. "Promise me you'll take good care of yourself", he said softly. "That's all I ask."  
>Freya felt a small lump in her throat but held his gaze and nodded. "I will. Promised." But she could not leave it at that. She had to, for his sake as much as hers. "Lucas...", she began, but he just smiled, a sad, little smile.<br>"Yeah. I'm old enough to be your father. Don't know what got into them old bones here. Don't you worry about an old fart like me, I'll do."  
>She swallowed, but failed to find any useful words of comfort. She put her hand on his still resting on her shoulder. "I wish it could be otherwise."<br>"It ain't", Simms replied, removed his hand and tipped his hat. "Godspeed, girl", he said before he turned around and walked down the ramp in long, easy strides.

Freya headed for the gate without looking back again.


	13. Chapter 13 Is this still me?

Freya made her way back to Rivet City via the same route she had left it by the last time, meaning to skirt the ruins on the south side and then crossing the river swimming. This brought her close to the Library Moira had been talking about, and going there was just a small detour and hardly any loss of time. She downloaded the data Moira had asked for but refrained from venturing deeper into the ruins after talking with the Brotherhood scribe at the entrance counter. She had no desire to face hordes, or even single super mutants with no armour to speak of and a single pistol.

She reached the river in the late afternoon, carefully sideling along the walls of the ruined buildings because she remembered all too well the ambush she had run into with Charon the last time she had been here. Trying to suppress the memories of that ambush and what it had led to, she concentrated on sneaking close to the walls and keeping in the shadows, but apart from her, there seemed to be no other living thing in these ruins. This time.

Determined not to make the same mistake twice, Freya took her pistol between her teeth as she set about to cross the river swimming, holding her head up high as she did so. In turn, she reached the other shore dripping and out of breath, but not defenceless. Her mind strangely working on its own accord Freya went into a crouch as she saw the mutant and, silently thanking Lucas for the weapon, needed only one, single, well placed bullet to bring him down. With a triumphant smile she got up, kissed the scope, and walked over to the corpse to see if he had anything of use on him.

It was only a single hunting rifle, but even as Freya slung it onto her back, a shower of bullets kicked up the dust around her and she dashed for cover behind a heap of rubble. Miraculously, none of the bullets had made their goal, and breathing heavily, Freya peeked over the rock to see another mutant, this one with a minigun, screaming for her to come out.

Freya rested the weapon on the rock and aimed. The scope was a blessing and a half. More than that, really. All she needed was to wait for the right moment and then...  
>The shot went off, the mutant dropped the gun with a scream and cradled his left arm with the right hand.<p>

With the mutant disarmed, Freya dared to stand up and aim for his head. Two more bullets, and this mutant joined his fellow. Freya stared through her scope, but nothing else move.  
>And at that, she suddenly felt a grin spread on her face. She had figured it out. She could do it. Freya almost howled in triumph, pulling herself only very reluctantly together as she sneaked across the empty space to see if she could scrounge something more from the other mutant. This was the secret. Not being so scared shitless of everything that moved. Without being so scared, she could do what she needed to do.<br>It _was_ that simple.  
>A necessary lesson the Wasteland had taught her. Be worried, but don't be afraid. Don't rely on others, watch yourself.<p>

True, she had paid dearly for that lesson. But it would enable her to survive.

**x:o:x:o:x**

Upon entering the marketplace Freya realised two things: That most of the stalls were empty and that an excited group of people had gathered at the back end of the large room with everyone talking simultaneously. She also saw several security guards trying to elbow their way through the crowd.

Freya stopped next to a blond woman holding a small scratchpad. "Where's Flak?", she asked, and the woman looked down at her although she wasn't much taller.  
>"Either you don't know enough about him to ask that, or you're not the kind of girl I like to talk to."<br>Freya felt her eyebrows rise off their own accord as she stared at the other woman. "Care to explain?"  
>The other woman looked at her again and shrugged. "He was a slaver. That's all I need to know, in any case. My dad told me to stay away from him, and I recommend that to you, too."<br>"All I wanted was to buy some ammunition from him", Freya gave back irritated.  
>"Then I guess you'll have to wait until whatever is going on is being settled."<p>

Freya left the woman and craning her neck, weaselled a little through the crowd to see a pair of men locked in a serious punch-up, Flak being one of the men involved.

"You'll not talk to her like that, you asshole!"  
>"I wasn't even looking at her, stupid fuck-head!"<br>Two guards were just about trying to pull them apart.

Freya watched as the young guy whom she didn't know walked past Flak, clutching a bleeding nose. The elder man smoothed down the front of his vest and stood back, seemingly unaware that the boy was about to ram an elbow into his kidneys, but faster than Freya could follow the movement Flak had suddenly turned around and was pressing a knife under the boy's chin.  
>"If you don't stop that now, you'll spend the night in the holding cells", the security chief yelled. "That goes for both of you. Drop it. No further warning."<br>"Got it, chief", Flak said and pushed past the people who slowly dispersed again as the show was seemingly over.

Freya followed him back to his stall. "Nice move", she said, and Flak looked over his shoulder down at her with a tiny, lopsided grin.  
>"Think so? I thought I was getting a bit slow with my old age." But he winked.<br>She had to smile. "Can you teach me that move?"  
>That made him stop dead in his tracks and he slowly turned to look at her. "Whatever the fuck for, kid?"<br>Freya rested her hips on her fists. "Isn't that bloody obvious? I've lost my bodyguard and everything I owned 'cause I didn't know the ropes. I've got stuff I need to do and all the help I can get. Interested? I'll pay you for it."

"So you want... _me_... to teach _you_... some dirty fighting? Flak rubbed the back of his neck with his hand.  
>Freya crossed her arms. "I think fighting fair doesn't get you far, does it?"<br>He gave her a long glare, then narrowed his eyes. "Fuck, no, it doesn't. But a girl like you best keep away from fighting altogether."  
>"It's not as if I'll always have the choice, do I?", Freya snorted. "I've been helpless once, and I'm sick of it."<br>"Okay, but let's face it, you're completely green. I wouldn't know where to..." Flak broke off and slowly looked down at his crotch, then up at Freya's face again. "Okay, so you're not completely green", he said with a chuckle. "I guess it's more fun than breaking that shit-head's nose, anyway."  
>Freya removed the knife and slipped it into her pocket, flashing him the sweetest smile she had.<p>

**x:o:x:o:x**

The few sputtering lamps and the full moon illuminated the flight deck just about enough for them to go about the lessons. Flak had removed his shirt and vest, showing Freya several spots on his bare, muscled torso where a knife would do the most damage or better yet, would be fatal.

For practising purposes, he had prepared a switchblade with blunting the blade and removing a spring so that the blade would retreat upon pressure instead of slicing into flesh. This blade was now resting in Freya's hand as she tried to stab Flak from various angles.

"No, no, no... Kid, you've gotta stab _between_ the ribs!"  
>"I can't see your fucking ribs, you fatso!"<br>Flak snorted and broke out into a laugh. "Getting fat, am I? And here I thought I was all muscles."  
>Freya grinned sheepishly. "Well, I guess it's mostly muscles."<br>"Mostly." He snorted again. "Now listen, kiddo. Most times, you've only got one try, so you gotta practise this. Now try again." He sidled closer, moving around her as if he meant to grab her. Freya gritted her teeth and rammed the knife into his chest.

Flak halted and inspected the spot. "Ha. I'm dead. Good job, kid."  
>Freya chuckled. "Need me to patch you up?"<br>"Nope, I'm dead." Flak pointed at the spot she had hit. "Right between these two ribs. Lung collapsed, dead. Period."  
>She nodded. "But that doesn't work from behind, does it?"<br>Flak weighed his head. "It could. But it's definitely harder. If you wanna backstab someone, all sneaky like, you'd best hit here." And he pointed to a point on the back on his neck.  
>"Are you kidding me? I'd need a footstool to do that." Freya reached up and had to plunge in the knife from high above her head. "That'd never work."<p>

"Yeah", Flak turned around. "But maybe someone's not that much taller than you. Maybe that someone is sitting down. Here, I'll go into a crouch, like I'm looting a corpse, for example. But it's your kill, and your loot. But I'm better armed, so you don't want confront me in a fight. So what you do is sneak up on me and slip the knife right up here between these two vertebras." He pointed again at the spot and Freya could see the vertebrae, stretching apart as he lowered his head. She could see them as if she was looking at one of the anatomy books back in the Vault. She plunged the knife down, but Flak snorted.  
>"Missed. Jesus, girl, if you hesitate, you're dead."<br>"I know." Freya bit her lip. "I'll try again."

Flak made a great show of rummaging through someone's pockets. "Oh a combat knife! Just what I always wanted!"  
>With gritted teeth, Freya plunged the knife down again.<br>"OW!" Flak shuddered. "Hit! Uuh... I'm dead again." Rubbing the back of his neck, he got up and smiled down at Freya. "Good work. That spot's hard to find."  
>She shrugged in reply. "I guess it comes from all the anatomy lessons."<br>"Anatomy? What, you're a doctor?"  
>"Sort of." Staring at her hands, she remembered that all she had wanted at one point in her life was to heal, not to tear flesh apart. "I got the training, back in the Vault. I guess it was good for something."<p>

"Well. I guess it's hard, but you gotta deal with life as it is." Flak stretched his back and popped a few joints in the process. "But you're making not too bad a job of it, if you ask me."  
>Freya snorted. "You have no idea."<br>"Hm?" He walked around her, but Freya avoided his look.  
>"I don't want to talk about it."<br>"Your choice", he replied simply. "Know what?"  
>"What?" She turned around, but at that moment he had grabbed her in a dead-lock. "What about surprise attacks?"<br>Freya wound herself and wriggled in his arms, but she was caught good and proper. "What about it", she snarled.  
>"Head butt", Flak replied. "Your skull will always be stronger than anyone's nose. Hurts. But is effective."<p>

Freya tried, but Flak avoided the move as easily as swatting away a tired fly. "You're not trying hard enough!"  
>"Bastard!" Freya tried her old trick instead, went completely limp and then tried to kick him in the goods as he lost his balance. But he had expected that, too, and just wrenched her around. "OW!"<br>"Sorry, kid", he breathed into her ear. "You wanted to know dirty tricks. Now listen. When in that situation, there's only one way out. You gotta bite. Bite as hard as you can into my arm or my hand. Draw blood if you can, that'll weaken the grip, and then you try the part with kicking me in the goods again. Only..." he loosened his grip. "I don't fancy being bitten and kicked in the goods right now." He chuckled. "Just remember."

"I remember", Freya said, but as she tried to step away from him, his arms closed around her again. Not hard. Not tight. Just a little closer.  
>Then his face lowered down to her shoulder and a slow shudder trickled down her spine as Flak cautiously brushed the skin on her neck with his cheek. "So damn pretty", he whispered against her skin. "You should have a dozen men doing the fighting for you, girl."<br>"I don't have them", she whispered back and closed her eyes. A part of her wanted to run away screaming, but another part of her wanted to... she didn't quite know what that part wanted. Maybe it just wanted to find what she had lost. Even if she had never known in the first place what it was that the slavers had taken away from her...

Freya let her head fall back when he gently nuzzled the skin on her neck and cheek.  
>"So pretty", he whispered again and brushed her lips with his. "Don't you be afraid of me, darling."<br>"I'm not", Freya gave back, her voice hardly audible and her throat dry. Fear mingled with anticipation, but even without knowing how she knew, Freya knew something was absent that should have been there. The something that the slavers took. She desperately slung her arms around his neck and opened her lips to him as he kissed her, but there was an empty spot inside her that he could not reach.

A voice rang out behind them on the deck, but Flak did not pause for a second even though Freya flinched.  
>"Flak? Hey, Flak? Are you here, buddy?" It was Shrapnel's voice. "Call me dumbass, but I've forgotten the key to our cabin and..."<br>Freya relaxed into Flak's arms as he deepened the kiss.  
>"Oh, I guess..." Shrapnel chuckled. "I guess I'll just sleep in the commons tonight."<p>

**x:o:x:o:x**

Disoriented and confused Freya awoke next to the body of a sleeping man. A naked man. As naked as she herself was. But just before panic hit her she remembered what had happened last night and looked at the face beside her on the pillow.  
>Flak was still soundly asleep, and Freya crept cautiously out of the bed and silently slipped into her clothing. A soft, sad smile crept onto her face as she pecked a small kiss on his cheek before she left the cabin and softly closed the door behind her.<p>

It had neither been painful nor frightening, contrary to what she had been expecting. At one point, she thought, Flak must have begun to guess what had happened to her because he doubled his efforts to be gentle and please her, but that had had no effect. It was not that it had hurt. It had, and that thought was deeply disturbing, done nothing at all.  
>She knew, even without any experience, that it should have had some effect. On her body, at least. But there had been nothing. It had left her feeling... nothing at all. There still was that empty spot inside her, and she still felt that strange detachment from her body that she had felt ever since she had woken up in Doc Church's clinic in Megaton all those weeks ago.<p>

She ran her hands through the stubbles of her hair and shuddered. She was living in a stranger's body. It was hers no longer.

**x:o:x:o:x**

Shrapnel greeted her with a feisty grin which she ignored as she traded some .44 ammunition and some pieces of leather armour for the guns she had taken off the two dead mutants.

"So, the old man still asleep. Exhausted him, did you?", Shrapnel asked a wink and closed the till.  
>"I guess so", Freya replied with faked cheerfulness and stowed her goods away in her pack. "Tell him I'll..." Then she shrugged with a retained smiled. "Just tell him I'll be seeing him around. Yes. I'll be seeing him around."<p>

Flak still had not appeared when she was done, and thinking about what had happened, Freya realised that maybe, she could use that to her advantage, too. He had told her she was pretty. And to judge by the attitude of some other men towards her, others thought that, too. Obviously, whatever she had imagined this could be would not happen for her anymore, but if she could use that to reach her goals...  
>He had not hurt her. He had just not been able to please her, and remembering his efforts, she thought that no one ever would. She had lost it, whatever it was, and as long as there was that empty spot inside her, and as long as that missing thing that obviously had made the connection between her body and her soul was not restored, no one could reach her... and no one could hurt her anymore.<p>

It was comforting in a strange, final way. The worst that could have happened to her had happened. Whatever would happen now could not top it, whatever pain would come her way, it would not exceed what she had already gone through. Still, she could not shake off the feeling of being forlorn, however. Because if no one could reach her anymore to hurt her, then no one would be able to reach her to do anything else. Comfort her, or make her laugh, maybe. Or even just smile.

She shook her head with an angry sigh. There was no comfort. No one could comfort her over the fact she had given her only friend into slavery to save her sorry arse. There was no denying that she had failed him, and that this unforgivable failure had led to her personal disaster. She had brought it all on herself.

**x:o:x:o:x**

Just as she was about to leave the marketplace she remembered Moira and asked a few people what they knew about Rivet City's history. It was not much, as it turned out, but it would have to do.

Finding out her father had not returned to Rivet City in her absence only took her ten minutes more, and she was over the bridge and across the River again before the sun had completely risen over the rubble and ruined houses of the Wasteland and headed west and slightly north for several hours.

Remembering Charon's warning about the place called Evergreen Mills Freya steered well clear of it. In fact, Freya steered pretty much clear of everything, checking the radar on her Pip Boy every twenty steps and avoiding anything that moved, saving up ammunition and luck for when she could no longer avoid the fighting. It was not long after midnight that she found a building that could be the garage her dad had been talking about.

She also found the entrance to the Vault. And finally, after so many months of searching, she found her dad. She just couldn't reach him. Failing to get any useful information out of the robots that cruised around the place and tended the strange pods that contained the inhabitants of the Vault, her only option was to use the last remaining empty pod to follow her dad into god knows what kind of simulation, if a simulation really was what was awaiting her. That seemed to be the case, but still, sitting down in the chair made her feel sick to her guts.

As the pod closed over her, Freya had to suppress the urge to flee at the last possible chance. It was as if she had to watch them closing the lid of her coffin above her; for a second she could not help but feel she was being buried alive. But then the simulation kicked in, and Freya slipped away.


	14. Chapter 14 Dawn and Dusk

Freya realised her knees were weak and her hands shivering when the pod above her slowly opened.  
>She had killed again. She had killed all those innocent people, and while it might be better, in the end, for them to have died after being caught and trapped in this madness for so long a time, she still had their lives weighing on her conscience.<p>

And yet harder would it be to face her father after what she had done, after what had happened to her, after all that she had caused. But despite that, she was in such a hurry to get out of the darn pod that she almost twisted an ankle when hitting the ground again. The relief at being out of this mingled with anxiety at facing her father and Freya watched his pod open with a racing heart.  
>The disorientation she had felt at the end of the simulation clearly showed in his face as he looked around, but then his mind began to work again; he recognised her and hurriedly got out of the pod to embrace her.<p>

"Good god, darling, I won't say I'm not glad to see you, but what are you doing here? What... what happened to your hair?"  
>Freya clenched and unclenched her fists several times as she replied. "Getting you out of that fucking thing! God, daddy, what the hell are <em>you<em> doing here? What is this place? And why the fuck did you run away on me like that?"  
>Her father blinked and narrowed his eyebrows. "Now I understand you are upset, but that language doesn't suit you, Freya. I have..."<br>"I know. You've taken great pains to make me into a perfect picture of erudition, politeness and charm. But this is the fucking Wasteland, Dad, and I..."  
>"And may I ask what you are doing here? You were meant to stay in the Vault, where it is safe and..."<p>

"Safe? Safe?" Freya took a deep breath and realised she was slowly becoming more and more furious. "Is that all you think about? Keeping me safe? What about leaving me completely alone, grown up or no? What about leaving me completely alone after fleeing the Vault in the middle of the night? Did you really think the overseer would just accept your stampede and life in the Vault would go on as if nothing ever had happened?"  
>"Darling, I..."<br>"He killed Jonas!" Freya dragged her hands down her face to ban the image in her memory, with no success. She saw her father had paled, but there was too much inside her to take a break and let him speak. Suddenly, it had to get out all at once. "And he meant to kill me! Amata woke me up in the bloody middle of the fucking night, thrust a 10mm into my hands and said I had to get out of the Vault to follow you! I had the security guards on my heels, I had the overseer after my life, he even tortured his own fucking daughter to get the information about me that he wanted!"  
>"Why... I never..." James shook his head. "I only ever did what I thought was best for you, honestly! Had I known this would happen, I had thought of something else! But I thought you could manage fine on your own, and this was our dream, your mother's dream..."<p>

Freya spoke through clenched teeth as she replied. "Her dream, was it. What about me? I was her dream, too, wasn't I? She'd given up everything to have me, that's what you always said! She's given up her life to have me, so how could you give me up like that? How could you do that to her?"  
>"Freya, please...", James stuttered, but Freya had talked herself into a rage now. She was unable to stop.<br>"How could you not think of that? And leave me just like that! And then I was thrust out into this shithole of a world, I had to kill, to steal, to lie, tolerate abuse and slavery, and I lost my only companion and have been raped by three men taking turns just because you didn't think it worth the trouble of taking me along!"

Suddenly, her rage evaporated like steam in the sun and she dropped her hands and stared at her father's feet. He himself was rendered completely speechless and there they stood for several minutes, both mute, both at a loss for words.

After what seemed like an eternity to Freya she saw him take a step closer, and then his arms were around her, holding her in a tight embrace. Somehow she was too weak to return it, but she let her head drop heavily onto his shoulder. Then she realised the shoulder was trembling. Looking up only reluctantly, Freya saw, for the first time in her life, her father's face wet with tears. He blinked as he looked at her, but the tears still flowed.

"Darling", he said in a chocked whisper. "Darling I'm sorry. I... I just thought you'd be safe. Like we'd always been in the Vault. I did what I did to avoid... to avoid precisely what has been happening to you now anyway."  
>Freya didn't know what to reply.<br>"Darling, I am so sorry... I didn't want this to happen. Not to you, my beautiful little girl..." He wiped his hand across his eye, the other one was holding onto Freya's shoulder. "Do you think you can ever forgive me? Holy god, can your mother ever forgive me? I..." James broke off with a sob and looked away.

Suddenly, Freya felt sorry for him. She still was furious at him for leaving her like that, but she was also sorry. He was her father, after all, and she had never seen him cry before.

"Daddy", she whispered and rested her forehead on his shoulder. "Just... just promise you'll never leave me again."  
>"I promise", he replied solemnly. "I promise I'll never leave you alone again, darling. And I promise I'll do whatever I can to make you all right again."<br>Freya looked up into his face. "Can you do that, daddy? Can you make me whole again?"  
>"I don't know", James replied slowly, brushing her cheek with the back of his hand. "I have to be honest, I don't know. But I will try."<p>

A tiny spark of hope was struck in Freya's heart and she managed a smile. "Let's get out of this place, daddy. I've had enough of Vaults to last two lifetimes."  
>"I hear you." James took her hand into his and together they left the Vault.<p>

Daylight had just broken when they emerged outside again, and they made their way back to Rivet City walking into the light of the rising sun.

"Dad?"  
>"Yes, darling?"<br>"Would you know anything about brainwashing?"  
>"Now why would you want to know about that?"<br>"It's a long story, dad. But I knew this one guy who..."

**x:o:x:o:x**

"Oy, ghoul!"  
>"Yes." Charon got up from the rock he had been allowed to sit upon.<br>"Pack up, we need to get going."  
>"Yes."<p>

Briefly, Charon wondered when the last time had been he had heard his name. Coming to the conclusion it had been coming from her, when they had left her dying in the dust of the Wasteland, he pushed that thought aside and locked it away, like so many others before it. It was the only thing he could do. Dimly he was aware of this being wrong, somehow. He wasn't supposed to feel that way about a former employer. He was supposed to feel nothing. He was only supposed to be at his employer's beck and call. Obey every command without ever questioning anything. Not to develop any kind of sympathy for them.

He wasn't supposed to have qualms either. Theoretically, he was the best employee a boss of slavers could have. No morals, no standards, no objections. Only...  
>Charon hoisted the heavy pack onto his back and readied his shotgun. Only he had.<p>

He had feelings he was not supposed to have, even though he didn't know how he could be so sure of that. In any case, it made his life even more of a hell, because have them as he might, do something about it, he couldn't. He had to follow orders, do what Dave told him to, no matter how he hated it, he had to do it.

As if he was trapped in a body he had no control of. Trapped in the body of a stranger. Maybe that was what the men who had made him really had done to him. Taken his body away and given it to whoever held his fucking contract. Leaving him stuck in here.

He herded the slaves together and got them going, as was his standing order for every day. And he followed his orders. Always. In a way, his appearance was a good thing, because the slaves were so afraid of him that they never tried to appeal to him for mercy. They just cowered in fear and did what he told them to.  
>This time it was a group of girls and young women, an order from a customer back down south that would make Dave an even richer man. He was wealthy, a slaver boss in a large ramshackle town called Richmond, and the only force to be negotiated with on his turf. Especially now that he had his ghoulish bodyguard. Everyone seemed to be afraid of him to some degree. Just like back in Underworld.<p>

Following the slaves and keeping an eye on the surroundings, Charon trotted along and ignored the thirst. They had forgotten to give him water. Again.

When they made camp that evening, Dave finally thought about his physical needs and gave him some food and water. Then Charon took up his place beside him as he slept, watching his master during the night. He usually got a scant one to two hours sleep just before sunrise. If Dave awoke early enough.

That man was running him down. Wearing him out. Sometimes Charon wished he would just break and go feral on him. He would rip out his throat and the others would kill him, and all would be over.

He was almost appalled by that thought. He wasn't supposed to have aggressive thoughts towards his employer. But he'd always had them. He had hated Azrukhal beyond words to describe it, and he had killed him when that little Vault girl had bought his contract.  
>That - he was sure of that - had not been supposed to happen, either.<p>

He was wearing down. There were feelings he wasn't supposed to have, there were urges inside him to break free of his cage, but that cage was too strong for him to even make a dent into it. So he raged and raged...  
>Staring into the fire, Charon fiddled with a little twig and wondered what was wrong with him. He was not supposed to rage. He was not supposed to feel anything...<br>His thoughts were running in circles.

It had always been like that. There had always been that inner resistance, even if he couldn't do anything about it. Always. As long as he could remember. But it had definitely gotten worse after _she_ had bought his contract. In the short time they had been travelling together, she had given him so much personal freedom that he now found it hard to go back to where he had been before.  
>And it was getting harder every day.<p>

Charon broke the twig in two and threw it into the fire. In a way, he was looking forward to the day when he would finally break. He would welcome the darkness of death like a long lost friend.

**x:o:x:o:x**

After they had delivered the slaves to a brothel owner in Richmond, Dave and his men took a little leisure time in the establishment; on a discount because the owner had been so pleased with the prompt delivery.

Trying to suppress the memories of the burning houses in the little village where they had caught the girls after killing every male and grown woman, Charon now stood in front of the door to the room in which Dave was fucking the living daylights out of a prostitute who wasn't much older than most of the girls they had just delivered.  
>And with a sudden clarity that was as frightening as it was relieving Charon realised that this was what would have awaited the kid if they had taken her along. She would most likely have ended up in this house, in that room, even, drugged into a stupor as all the whores here were and opening her legs to any shit-head, drunken or sober, who happened to have the right amount of caps.<p>

No, as much as it hurt to remember her, it was better she was dead. Everything was better than this.

Charon froze as he realised what he just had thought. It hurt to remember her. Since when was there anything that could hurt him? So far, there had only been rage and frustration, loathing, revulsion, hate, anger, fury. And he wasn't supposed to feel that. But to have something hurt him... it was even more disturbing.

His mental armour was cracking. The plating welded around his soul was cracking. _He_ was cracking. Breaking.

"_He's gonna break."_

Charon gripped the butt of his shotgun so hard his knuckles hurt.

_"He's gonna pop on us, mark my words."_

Memories so deeply buried he hadn't even known there were memories at all rose through cracks in his soul like steam from a volcano about to erupt.

No...  
>This could not be happening...<br>He was not _supposed_ to remember...

_..._

_It was the girl.  
>The girl had been the final test.<br>And Charon had failed the test. He faced his masters, knowing that his failure meant his doom. He had failed the test, now he was going to die. They threw him back into his cell. Locked him in. _

"_Look at him. Just look at him! Fuck, he could have been the best of them!"_  
>"<em>I told you it wouldn't work!"<em>

_He listened to the heated discussion between the two men, waiting for his death. Why couldn't they kill him first and then scream at each other? The metal wall of his cell was cold against his bare back and shorn head. This cell had held his whole existence. Now it would see his dead._

"_Fuck you did! He needed more time! I told you he would need more fucking time, and you said he's supposed to be ready together with the others!"_  
>"<em>If he's not ready by now he'll never will! I told you he was too old!"<em>

_There had been ten of them. Two of them had died. But not him. Charon was the oldest of them, the tallest, the strongest. The best. Exceeding them all. In everything. But he had failed the final test of obedience and submission.  
>It was the girl. It had triggered a memory. The memory of a little girl with blonde hair and freckles. Just like the girl before him as she had stared at him with a panicked expression. A face, a memory, a name.<em>

_Annie._

_A name and a face he had held onto during all those years. They had crushed and eradicated all memories. Crushed and eradicated all feelings. All but this, the secret, hidden core of everything that he had held dear and important in his life._

_Annie._

_He still remembered no more than that. But there was a tiny little spark of humanity inside him, and it would now mean his death.  
>The final test had been to rape and kill a girl. All of them had. All but him.<br>Because there had been that memory._

_Annie._

_He was sure she was dead. A feeling so dim he could hardly feel it was there told him he must have seen her die. She was gone. But she was still there. She had always been there. They had taken everything from him. Even his own name was gone. But she was still there._

_Annie._

"_Okay now, so what are we going to do about him? We can't just kill him! He's cost us a fortune already!"_  
>"<em>And what would you want to do with him? Have him at your back after that shit? He's gonna break! He's gonna pop on us, mark my words. And then? Want to have him at your back when the conditioning fails?"<em>  
>"<em>Fuck, no. But..."<br>"I have an idea. Why not sell him?"_  
>"<em>Sell him? Are you fucking kidding me? He's gonna..."<br>"I have a plan. Trust me. He's not gonna pop anytime soon, we just make sure he is going far away enough. If he pops in months or years, fuck, it might be decades, doesn't matter if he's far away enough."_  
>"<em>But how the fuck are we going to sell him? He's no slave!"<br>"He'll need another dose of the stuff. We make a deed of ownership. Then he obeys whoever holds that instead of us. So he's gone, we get the money, and the problem is no longer ours."_  
>"<em>Hm. You know, that could actually work."<em>  
>"<em>Trust me. He's worth a fortune as it is. Everything else won't be our problem."<em>

_The cell door opened and Charon got up. He had heard everything and knew he was in for another agony. He knew the drug. The drug was hell.  
>But as long as they would not kill him, she was still here. She was the only thing that remained of him.<em>

_Annie._

_..._

The door opened behind him and broke the spell.

"Come on", Dave said, disgustingly pleased with himself.  
>Charon followed him outside, where the sun had just set and the shadows grew into darkness, feeling cold and deeply shaken at the sudden return of a memory forgotten for so long a time that he couldn't even fathom how old it was.<p>

Annie.

It was the only memory. The only fragment of the life before.

That once, he had had a sister.


	15. Chapter 15 Deteroriation II

Freya and her father reached Rivet City after nightfall and booked themselves into a room in the Weatherly hotel to spend a night in privacy.

All the time during the trip back from Vault 112 they had talked - when they had not been trying to sneak around potential threats or running away from deathclaws, that is. James had answered Freya's questions about brainwashing; the techniques, drugs and methods of breaking someone's will including the discussion about them and weighing violence against drugs or a combination of both.  
>When she asked him where he had all that knowledge from it turned out that her father had once been an ambitious young scientist in the Enclave where he had worked on, or believed he did, the betterment of the world for everyone. When, years later, he discovered what the Enclave really was about he had, disillusioned and angry but after a long time of planning, fled in the middle of the night, together with her mother who had shared his dreams from the beginning. A dream that had brought them to Rivet City, to the memorial, and her to her death.<p>

But even though he tried to forget about that past, the things he learned then he now taught his daughter to the best of his abilities. Although Freya was sure she would never see Charon again, for some reason it restored a tiny little bit of her peace of mind to know all this. To be able to at least make an attempt at it if she would ever get the chance, however unlikely it was.

But now that they were in their hotel room, after having eaten a few bites, James sat down with her to talk about what had happened to her. And Freya told him.  
>It spurted out of her like water through a broken dam, but even reliving the memories, going back to every single pain and shame, did not bring back the tears. It took her almost two hours and afterwards she was hoarse and tired, her eyes burning, but dry. Even in her father's arms as he hugged her tight and held her on his lap, she could not cry.<p>

He told her she would have to learn to let go again, open herself up to someone she could trust, and at one point, the tears would come. He didn't seem to be upset she couldn't do it with him, he just told her that she needed more time.

Freya fell asleep that night holding on to that flicker of hope, clutching it like a flower to her heart.

**x:o:x:o:x**

"Now Freya, understand that this is nothing personal and has nothing to do with your intelligence or scientific abilities." Her father put a hand onto her shoulder as they made their way towards the memorial. "We don't have much time now, and the whole thing has always been on the brink of collapse as it was. By now, most of it most likely has collapsed, and we will have to start from scratch at some points and keep it going and holding it together with spittle and thread at others. But once we have the thing up and running, to a degree at least, then you'll be worked in into everything. Presently everything I'll tell you will most likely be void a few hours later, but you will get the hang of it. Right now, your help as a general dogsbody might seem demeaning to you, but it is as vital to us as what we do up in the lab. Do you understand?"

Freya had listened to the explanation with tight lips. "Yes, I understand." She did, but she didn't like it. Her only consolation was the promise that she would be a member of the scientific team once they had the thing up and running again. In the meantime, she would be their gofer and bide her time. Because her dad had asked her to.

**x:o:x:o:x**

How things could have gone from bad to worse in so short a time Freya could not fathom. She had thought everything would be all right again. She had thought that once she had found her dad, her life would go back to something resembling normality again.

But it had been out of the frying pan, and into the fire.

And now she was kneeling in front of a glass door, watching her father die of radiation. And a part of herself died with him as she pressed her hand to the glass where his hand was on the other side, feeling only coldness.  
>"I'm sorry...", he croaked. "I'm sorry darling... but this was... the only way..."<br>"But dad..." Freya realised her voice sounded like that of a little girl. "Daddy... you promised... you promised not to leave me alone again..."  
>"Freya... my little darling..."<br>But Freya closed her eyes and dropped her head. He had promised. He had promised! And now he was dying. Just because of this project, this dream of his. He had promised never to leave her again, and had thrown his life away just like that. Because of a few gallons of water.  
>"You promised... you fucking promised..."<p>

When Freya opened her eyes again and looked up, her father was still, his empty eyes still trained on her face. He was gone. And she... had not watched him go.

"Freya, hurry, we must go. We must..."  
>"Who is we?" She realised her voice sounded as dead as she felt, and as she looked up at Doctor Li, the elder woman took a small step back.<br>"Well you, and us. I mean..."  
>"Why me? What have I got to do with anything anymore?"<br>"Well you are the only one with any kind of combat experience and we must get back to the Citadel..."  
>"And why is it my job to get you there?"<p>

Taken aback, Li shook her head. "Why... he was your father. This was his dream! I mean... you have to finish it for him..."  
>"I have to?" Freya got up and stared at the other woman as if she could willingly turn her into stone. From the looks of her, she might even have succeeded. "I fucking have to do nothing! I just lost my dad, he just died in front of my eyes, and you tell me I have to fucking what? Babysit you and your useless scientist twits to the Citadel?"<br>"Freya, please!"  
>Clenching her fists and gritting her teeth, Freya cast a last glance at her father's dead body and drew her pistol. "Oh well." Then she heavily stomped down the stairs while cocking the magnum. "Let's get going. I can't even bury him, so there's no point at staying here."<br>Doctor Li swallowed heavily and cautiously stepped around her. "We need to go through the manhole and the tunnels. I'll show you the way."

Freya followed her and once they had reached the tunnels, took the lead. Why she was doing this was a mystery to her, but maybe there was this little bit of goody-two-shoes Vault girl inside her that was very hard to kill. So she would help them back to the Citadel, for her father's sake even though he had deserted her. Again.

_You promised, daddy. You fucking promised._

But he wasn't listening anymore.

**x:o:x:o:x**

She had no explanation for why she was running through the Wasteland right now. Being Li's and the Pride's errand girl. Off to hunt for an ancient Vault artefact that was supposed to be the solution to all the problems Project Purity had ever had. But why was it her job? Tired to the bones, Freya sat down onto a rock and contemplated this. Why not just go back to Megaton and pretend nothing was her problem anymore, apart from her own choices she herself made?  
>Why, indeed. But she remembered what she had told Charon, all that time ago. She needed to put all this behind her to start anew. And finishing Project Purity for her father seemed to be part of it.<p>

If this was indeed the reason, then there was nothing to be gained in delay. She needed to go and find Vault 87, retrieve the GECK, help Li install it and finish what both her parents had given their lives for to achieve. And then, maybe then she would be able to put all this behind her, and start all over again.

But she needed a little break. Christ, she was so tired, just one night in Megaton, just a few hours sitting around, doing nothing. She hurt all over, inside and out, and maybe a few drinks would help her get something resembling sleep and rest.  
>With a heavy sigh, she got off the rock and headed north.<p>

**x:o:x:o:x**

Freya had almost shot the figure that came screaming towards her, only realising the very last instant that it was a boy of no more than ten.  
>"You gotta help me! Those... things! They are after me!"<br>Freya slowly holstered her pistol again and tried to make sense of the frightened stutter. "Whoa. Calm down boy. What is it that is after you?"  
>"Those... things." He gulped for air. "Ants. And I can't find my dad. Please, help me find my dad!"<br>Freya was horrified for a second to realise she was torn between breaking out in tears and shooting the boy where he stood. Forcing her face to remain neutral and her voice to stay calm she replied: "Here boy. I need to know more before I can help you. Start at the beginning, and don't worry. Things will be all right."  
><em>Yeah, just like they turned out perfectly all right for me, ain't?<em>

The boy stepped nervously from one foot to the other as he blabbered stuff about a doctor, his dad, ants and fire. Freya put a hand on his shoulder and managed with gentle coaxing to extract the story out of the boy of the fire breathing giant ants that had overrun the place where he lived with his father. It took her quite a while because the boy was understandably very upset and frightened.

What made her do this wasn't quite clear to Freya, but she just couldn't leave the boy to his fate. Fire breathing ants was not something she was keen on making close acquaintance with, but something inside her urged her on to help the boy, to save him from the fate that had befallen her. The wasteland was full of lost and ruined souls, just like she herself was now one, and maybe, if she could save the boy from becoming one too, a little bit of her old humanity could remain, or even be restored.  
>So she followed Brian Wilkins north to Grayditch to do for him what no one had done for her.<p>

In the end, Freya could do nothing more for Brian's father than lay him out on the bed and put a gun into his hand. And even though she had expected this, she still could not stop the helpless fury welling up inside her, and the frustration of having come too late was eating her up inside.

Her fury even grew more when she found out, after breaking into the shack next door, that the fire ants were most likely no natural mutated creatures but consciously man-made. As she made her way to the metro station where this Dr Lesko had retreated to she was cold with fury, but strangely enough that fury helped her find a focus that enabled her to kill the ants she encountered with more efficiency than she ever would have believed herself capable of.

Riding on this emotional rollercoaster of fury and satisfaction she almost killed the doctor on sight when she finally found him in his lab down in Marigold station. Only his yelp of fear as he cowered down in a corner after dropping the flask he was holding stopped her from becoming a cold-blooded killer. Pointing her pistol upwards she took a few breaths and asked herself what had become of her, her chest heaving and her hands trembling.

Realising that he was not about to meet his doom, the doctor slowly unfurled himself and stood up, giving her an unsecure look.  
>She took a breath to calm herself. "You made these beasts?"<br>Lesko tried to smile. "It was an accident..."  
>Freya snarled. "How can you accidentally create fire breathing giant ants?"<br>"Listen", the doctor began and smoothed back his hair. "Why don't you put that pistol away and I try to explain what has gone wrong?"  
>With narrowed eyes, Freya uncocked the pistol and holstered it. "I'm all ears."<p>

It became soon clear to her that she was speaking with an absolutely brilliant mind, and with an absolutely ruthless man who put the advance of his research above all else, even above the lives of the people living around him. He had not much sorrow to spare for the fact that the Wilkins boy was now orphaned although he expressed his regret about the fact that sacrifices had to be made for scientific advance.  
>It was only when he, after Freya's prodding, went into a bit more detail about his actual research that Freya felt fascinated despite herself. The knowledge he had already accumulated about mutations and how to manipulate genomes to undo them was immense and she realised that if there was anyone who could possibly help her in fulfilling her dream of finding a cure for the various mutations here in this world, he was the one.<p>

And once Lesko realised that he was not speaking to a layman but a fellow scientist who had her own knowledge of genomes, he happily launched into a discussion about the advantages of various tissue samples and splicing methods.  
>"Here, you have to have a look at this", he said and leaned over his workstation, hacking some lines of code into it. A few graphs appeared on the screen.<br>Freya leaned forward as well and narrowed her eyes. "I think this is a bit beyond me, Doctor." She tilted her head. "I'm more into anaplasty and surgery."  
>"Well anyway, you are a refreshing change to the usual grunting wastelander." He smiled at the screen. "Educated people are a rarity out here."<br>"I noticed", Freya replied dryly, following the traces his fingers made hovering above the screen.

After spending roughly two hours discussing his methods to which Freya even was able to contribute, she agreed to give him a hand in his research. He was intrigued by the theories about the mutations of the human genome, and the challenge of curing those. He promised to give this some thought as Freya set off to clear the nest of the guardians so Lesko could continue his research there.

**x:o:x:o:x**

"I have come to the conclusion that it might be feasible", Lesko thoughtfully said to her as she sat on his office chair with her jacket on her knees, wincing as he applied a stimpack into her left shoulder. "However, I need a more reliable medium for my cell cultures. With my current experiences the ant meat medium is sufficient, but for something as delicate as human DNA I need something else..."  
>"Do you have any idea what might be suitable?", Freya asked through gritted teeth.<br>"Some kind of sterile protein solution", Lesko replied as took her left hand in his to check the skin on her arm. Unsurprisingly, he had developed a very effective burn ointment that he had applied there and was now checking its effects. "But how to achieve this..."  
>Freya turned her head to look at him. "Maybe fabricate it out of Brahmin blood or meat? I remember having read about these things in old books in the Vault."<br>The doctor narrowed his eyes. "This could work. Gelatinous protein components. But..." he looked up at her wrinkling his nose. "Honestly, even if I had the equipment, sitting here and boiling Brahmin bones or clotted blood..."  
>It was Freya's turn to narrow her eyes now. "You know... I might just know the right person to do <em>that<em> kind of experimentation for us." _Jesus, Moira would be delighted to spend weeks boiling Brahmin bones. The Megatonians will kill me on sight after this._

"Really." Lesko sounded pleased, but didn't let go of her hand. "You know, I never thought it possible that there was someone as educated, intelligent _and_ beautiful out here in this godforsaken world." Then he looked up and Freya found herself caught in his stare. "It might be fate has brought us together for the betterment of this world, don't you think?"  
>The way he looked at her Freya felt more like screaming and kicking the gonads out of him, but she needed him. Without Lesko's expertise, she would never be able to achieve her goal. <em>That<em> goal. The other goal, finding her dad, she _had_ achieved. She had gotten _exactly_ what she had asked fate for. She had found her dad. She should probably have specified her wish in that she also would like to fucking keep him after finding him, but as it was, she _had_ found him.

Just as she had gotten what she had wished for when she had set off and freed Charon from Azrukhal's claws. She had freed him, freed him from that slimy bastard's attitude, freed him from standing in that corner, and sent him straight from the frying pan and into the fire. But she _had_ freed him from that goddamned corner.

Tomorrow, she would set off to Megaton and involve Moira in their experiments, and on her way back after retrieving the GECK she would set up with Lesko after delivering it to the Brotherhood and finishing Project Purity. Maybe _that_ would turn out as planned, but she somehow doubted it.

With a knowing smile, Lesko let go of her hand and stood back. Obviously he wasn't in such a hurry, which was fine by her, considering the emotional turmoil she still was in.

He seemed a considerate man, despite the ruthlessness he displayed when talking about his scientific pursuits, but even though Freya knew that he, too, would not be able to find her what she had lost. She pushed this thought aside, reminding herself that in this world she had to use the means given to her to get help in reaching her goals and that her personal girlish wish of happiness wasn't going to be fulfilled. This world didn't fulfil any wish without taking something in return.

For a split second she was almost glad her father was dead, and that he would not have to witness his daughter having turned into a woman that was half gunslinger and half wasteland whore.


	16. Chapter 16 Broken Wings

_Broken Wings, by Chris de Burgh, 1977_

* * *

><p>Being alone in the Wasteland again on her way from Grayditch up north, her memories, which she had been successfully shoving aside as long as she had been dealing with Lesko and his ants, returned in full force. Fury and frustration and a soul-wearying pain churned around inside her at remembering the last twenty-four hours. Her father was dead. Dead. Died before her very eyes. The little flower of hope he had given her was crushed into the dust of the unforgiving irradiated hell.<p>

The little ray of light she had felt upon meeting a man who could help her achieve her dream of curing ghoulification didn't last long, either, before her weariness settled down onto her shoulders like a heavy, leaden load. Forcing one tired foot before the other, the journey took her several hours more than strictly necessary.

It was just before sunset when she reached Megaton, and the first person she encountered was the Sherriff who had been standing at the top of the ramp looking down into the crater, watching over the town like a mother hen over her flock. He turned his head when he heard her coming and his face lit up, only to become instantly worried when he saw her expression.

"Freya?" He hurried up to her. "What on earth has happened now, girl?"  
>She swallowed and found it strangely hard to talk about it, all of a sudden. She hadn't talked about this with Lesko and everyone in the Citadel had either ignored her loss or given her some ritualised phrases, but no one had actually cared about her. Not like him. She knew he cared about her, but that made it, for some strange reason, difficult to talk. In the end, she just blurted it out.<br>"My dad..."  
>Simms stared at her for a few seconds before understanding dawned in his warm, dark eyes. "Christ, girl", he whispered. "No... Not that, too."<p>

Torn between the urge to run away to bury herself in the solitude of her bed and the need to let herself be comforted, at least a tiny little bit, Freya swayed back and forth on her feet. Simms misinterpreted that gesture as her being close to fainting and slung an arm around her to pull her close.  
>The decision being thus made for her Freya just leaned into his embrace and wished for what her life was worth she just could cry to relieve the pressure inside her, but she couldn't. She just couldn't.<p>

"It's all right, girl", Simms said softly. "Just get it all out. It'll be all right."  
>"No", Freya whispered against his shoulder. "Nothing's ever going to be all right again. I can't cry anymore. I can't cry anymore, ever since those guys tore me apart from inside out. I'm broken inside, Lucas. I'm bust."<br>Simms patted her back with one hand. "Here, girl. We all carry our scars, that doesn't mean we're broken. Hey, kid. It's hard to accept some of the scars we have, but we need to do that to go on."

Freya listened to his words of comfort and wished she could believe them. Be able to accept what had happened and move on. But she couldn't. She realised at this moment that this was what might have been happening, that she still lived in inner denial of what had happened to her. But maybe that realisation would help her get along. She stopped trembling at this thought, and Simms slowly released her.

"Thanks", she whispered. "I need a drink now, I think."  
>"Girl, I think you shouldn't be drinking in your state. You'll only end up absolutely rat-arsed and do something you will regret afterwards."<br>Freya just shrugged.  
>"Why don't you go home and have a lie down? Maybe you can even find some sleep. You look like you could use it." He laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.<p>

Freya stared at the hand and realised something else, something that frightened her not a little, maybe even the true if subconscious reason for why she had made the decision to come to Megaton now instead of travelling on and spending the night in the Wasteland, coming back for to give instructions to Moira on her way back. She was suddenly afraid of being alone.  
>"I... I can't..." she gave back, still in a whisper. "I... I don't want to be alone. I... I think if I'm alone now I... I might do something I won't have the chance to regret later on." She avoided the Sherriff's eyes.<br>"Good god, girl..." Simms sighed. "You'd make angels weep."

He patted her shoulder, and Freya looked up at him and leaned closer, resting a hand on his cheek. Then she tried to take a step forward, but Simms took away her hand and put both of his on her shoulders, holding her gently but firmly at arm's length.  
>"No", he said softly. "This is not supposed to be happening. You might not regret it in the morning, girl, but I will." He removed his hands and took a step back. "Go see Gob, he's missed you, I gather. But promise me... just watch yourself."<p>

Freya could only nod, and Simms turned his back to her and walked away. She herself headed for the Saloon, but talking to Gob proved to be no relief to her this time. He couldn't distract her a bit from her bitter, painful memories, nor could he fill in any of the emptiness she felt inside her.  
>She just sat there at the counter in a miserable heap and emptied bottle after bottle. Gob occasionally patted her arm in passing, but otherwise he just silently kept it coming, despite better knowledge. He would much rather just settled down in a silent corner with her and hugged her a little, but that was out of the question. The only thing he could do was be there, but that wasn't enough. Not like this. Not right now.<p>

Especially not when Jericho silently sat down beside her and ordered two bottles, offering her one.

**x:o:x:o:x**

Freya left Megaton again with sunrise, following her shadow with the sun at her back, running away from yet more memories she could have done without. She had done it again, despite better knowledge, had tried to fill the hollow emptiness, reach the cold dead spot inside her. Of course, it hadn't worked. Jericho fucked just like the mindless brute he was.

Remembering Gob's look as she had left the bar with him, she wondered if she ever would be able to look into her friend's face again.

At least Moira had fulfilled her expectations and had been absolutely delighted at the prospect of doing weird things with brahmin bones and blood. After specifying what she needed, Freya had left the crazy woman to her own devices, assured that Moira would at least have some time enjoying herself. And as crazy as she was, Freya was almost sure that she would get what she needed, for even if Moira was many things, she was not one to give up easily.

To keep herself occupied she began reciting old lessons and memory lists from her medical training back in the Vault, supplementing them with the things she had learned later on. Which led her thoughts right back to her father and the things he had talked about on their trip back to Rivet City. Had that that only been three days ago? Three days?

That brought her to a stop and she realised she somehow recognised the surroundings. She had been here before... and then she recognised the small rise topped with some rocks. With weak knees and a sick feeling in her guts she climbed it and knelt down in the dust, next to the old remnants of a fire she could just about spot because she knew it had been there.

It was here he had lain. And she... she looked around. She had lain over there. Without closing her eyes she could see herself, lying in crumpled heap with nothing more than torn underwear covering her bruised and battered body. And she could see Charon, laying in the dust with a rifle pointing into his face.

Freya slowly picked up two handfuls of dirt and held out her hands, watching the dusty earth sift through her outspread fingers and drift away in the wind.  
>Staring towards the horizon, into the directions he had watched him walk away, she dropped her hands and realised that nothing was left anymore of that girl from the Vault who had climbed that little rise all those months ago for the first time. Nothing apart from the feeling she had been fighting all along. The feeling that returned now to her in full force, with all the heart-racing, gut-wrenching misery that was caused by an unfulfilled, hopeless love.<br>A love that never could be returned. But a love that somehow was the only little bit of feeling that had survived the incineration of her soul. Everything else had died inside her.

She was broken. She had thought this world would be freedom, but it had broken her.

With a deep and tired sigh, Freya got onto her feet again and dusted off her knees. Then she unholstered her pistol and continued on her way west.

* * *

><p><em>These broken wings can take me no further<br>I'm lost, and out at sea  
>I thought these wings would hold me forever<br>And on to eternity_

_And far away I can hear your voice  
>I can hear it in the silence of the morning<br>But these broken wings have let me down  
>They can't even carry me home<em>

_In broken dreams that keep me from sleeping  
>I remember all the things I said<br>Well I've broken all the promises  
>I said I would be keeping<br>They're gone, like leaves they fel,_

_For it's so hard when you're far away  
>All I needed was a shoulder I could cry on<br>Now these broken dreams have woken me  
>My love, will you carry me home<em>

_Or will you treat me like some traveller  
>On a dark and lonely road<br>Who sees a light and a woman who will give him love  
>Oh and just when she reaches the part<br>When she's supposed to comfort his broken heart  
>She turns away, and sends him travelling on, on<em>

_Oh when I left I believed that nothing would go wrong  
>I thought the whole world would be waiting for my story<br>Take me back, my love, I need you now  
>Come back and carry me home<em>

_Take me back and heal these broken wings  
>Come back and carry me home.<em>


	17. Chapter 17 Dashed Hopes

_A/N: Taking some freedom with the game plot. I couldn't imagine Freya surviving Raven Rock, so she's not going there. Don't shoot me. I mean, it doesn't make a difference, does it? Even after you've killed Eden and Autumn and blown up the whole Enclave, they're still all over the place and annoy the fuck out of you._

* * *

><p>"Fuck off, mungo! We don't like your kind around here!"<br>At a loss for words, Freya realised that smart words would be of no use to gain entry into the caves of Little Lamplight. But then she narrowed her eyes as she thought of something. She remembered a lesson her father had given her long ago in the Vault concerning the treating of children. Speak their language, he had said. Well, to be honest, the language of this particular breed of children seemed to be... let's just say a little dilly. With a snort, she stood back and crossed her arms.  
>"And who made you boss of the place, ugly snip?"<br>"And what's it to you, stupid mungo? Don't like my face? Sorry ever so much, missus."  
>"No, I don't like your face. I'd give you a new one, only I forgot my spare arse back home. Your breath smells of fart anyway, even down here."<p>

That made him laugh. "Well I guess you're not so bad for a mungo. So whaddya want?"  
>"Come in, what else, snip? I want to get into the Vault."<br>"The what?"  
>"The Vault. I think there's a back entrance to it from the caves here."<br>The boy on top of the gate made a face as he let her in. "But that's a bad place. That's where the big green ugly things come from. They're dangerous."  
>"I know", Freya said as she entered the gate and looked around. "I want to see if I can take one home as a pet."<br>"You're bullshitting."  
>"No, I'm not! You'll just see."<p>

"Ha." Another kid, a girl this time, joined their conversation. "They'd eat you before you can say 'shit'."  
>"Especially with no proper weapon", the mayor said, showing off his assault rifle.<br>"Oooh", Freya said. "So what? Mine's got a scope!"  
>"No way!"<br>"Wanna look?" And she showed off the magnum, displaying proper pride of ownership.  
>"This is so cool", the girl said. "Can I hold it?"<br>"Nope, this one's mine", Freya gave back and holstered the pistol again. "So, you gonna show me the way or not?" The last part she said to the mayor again and added: "Starfish-mouth."  
>"This way, mungo", MacCready said, still grinning.<p>

**x:o:x:o:x**

There was no way around fighting super mutants once she was inside the Vault, but even though she had already some experience in killing them, fighting them in close quarters in narrow hallways was something else entirely. Pressing her back against the wall, Freya let her head fall back and tried to get her breath back. Her pistol clutched in both hands, she closed her eyes for a second as she listened to the steps of the two advancing mutants while sweat was running down the back of her neck.

On the count of three. She swallowed heavily and cocked the pistol. One, two...

She spun around the corner and lowered the pistol on mutant knee height, emptying the whole magazine in rapid succession before dashing around the corner again and pulling out one of the grenades she had found earlier. The pistol in one hand, she pulled out the safety pin with her teeth and leaning forward, threw it around the corner into the hallway before jumping back and racing up a few steps of the stairs behind her where she hastily reloaded the pistol.

The explosion shook the walls around her, but the silence that followed sounded promising to Freya. Blinking sweat out of her eyes she cautiously advanced on the two mutants again and peeked around the corner. They lay in a heap, legs entangled, but one of them was just trying to get up. With gritted teeth, she put another three bullets between his eyes and let herself fall against the wall again, trying to get her breath back. Just when she pushed herself back from the wall and took another step into the corridor, she heard a voice.

"You... Over there. Please, come speak to me. I'm in the room to your left. Use the intercom next to the window."

Freya looked this way and that until she saw the window with the intercom. She advanced cautiously but stopped dead when she realised that on the other side was no captured human, but another one of them. A mutant. A mutant with a civilised manner of talking. Wiping her brow with the back of the hand holding the pistol, Freya cautiously pressed the button. "Yes?"  
>"It can't be! Either you are quite real, or I am going quite mad. Could you actually be a pure human?"<br>Freya stared at the mutant on the other side of the screen, different in no aspect to the others she had already killed apart from the fact he was wearing a tattered Vault suit. And that he talked, of course.  
>"Uhm. I guess pure is open to definition. But... Yes. I am human. And what... what are you?"<br>"Me? You care who I am?"  
>She took another step closer to the window to get a better view of him and look at his face. He still looked no different, but there was something about his facial expression that set him apart. Something about his eyes. Even as she tried to think of an answer, he spoke again.<br>"Forgive me, but I'm not used to such pleasantries. I'm more used to grunts and being struck around by the others. My name's Fawkes. I've lived in this... cage all my life."  
>"Fawkes." Freya wasn't sure what to make of this conversation, if it could be a trap or if she was going mad, but kept her ears peeled for any sounds behind her as she replied. "I guess it's... it's kind of ironic that you are considered an outsider by... well, I suppose I could call them your own kind?"<br>He scoffed. "I suppose so. But not one of them, and human no longer. I am honestly surprised that you should talk to me instead of shooting."  
>"Well." Freya shrugged. "I guess I am too curious for my own good sometimes. My name is Freya, by the way."<p>

The mutant who called himself Fawkes chuckled, a deep, rough sound. "But you are right, it is ironic. Forgive my astonishment, but I hadn't expected to meet someone with such a learned outlook of these things. It is a pleasant change." Then he paused and gave Freya a long, considering look. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, it was only a matter of time before someone like you showed up for the GECK."  
>Freya narrowed her eyes. "You know about the GECK? Do you know where it is?"<br>He sounded the tiniest bit smug. "I know what it is, I know where it is, and best of all, I know how you can get your hands on it." Then he paused, and Freya realised by the way he looked at her that this piece of information wouldn't come for free. It wasn't hard to guess what he would want in return.  
>"I assume you want me to spring you free before you tell me anything."<br>"I would like that very much, yes."  
>"And what guarantee do I have that you won't wring my neck as soon as I open the door?"<br>"None other than my word."  
>Freya bit her lower lip and tried to search his eyes for the truth of his words. But then... "Well... I am sure I could find the GECK on my own, you know."<p>

He seemed to smile, although it was hard to tell with his distorted features. "You most certainly could, but you would not be able to retrieve it. The chamber containing it is flooded with radiation in very high levels. You would not survive setting foot in there. I, on the other hand, am immune to radiation, and I will retrieve the GECK for you if you let me out."  
>"I see." Freya stopped chewing her lip and leaned forward. "But how do I get you out?"<br>"At the end of the hallway to your right is a maintenance room. Inside, you'll find the fire control console for the medical area. Trip the alarm on it, and I'll be able to get out."  
>"That sounds feasible", Freya began, but he held up a hand and interjected: "Oh, a word of warning though. Tripping the console activates a failsafe and will open ALL of the recovery rooms in the medical area. So, what do you think? Can you do it?"<br>Taking a deep breath, Freya weighed her options and decided that she had no means to deal with deadly radiation, but she had already killed several mutants.

Cocking her pistol, she placed her hand flat against the glass and smiled lopsidedly. The mutant on the other side blinked a few times, then slowly placed his own hand, green and twice the size of hers, on the glass on the other side.  
>"Okay Fawkes, you've got a deal."<br>She could see his chest heave with a sigh of relief. "I'm glad to see you are a sensible person. Now, get me out of this place. I can't stand it anymore."  
>And with a nod, Freya turned away and walked down the hallway, realising the need for his words of warning as she did so. Most of the cells were occupied, and it was likely that whatever was inside would attack her once the doors were opened.<p>

Trying to get some information about whatever inhabited the first cell Freya managed to hack herself into the computer next to the door and found, to her amazement and utter relief, that the control panel contained an option for terminating the test subject. Deciding it was worth the effort to try Freya hacked the control terminals beside each single door and found the same options in each one of them. Activating the fire control console after that was no more than a single button, and just as Fawkes had told her, all cell doors were released. She would have had a hell of a time to fight her way back to the one holding him without having offed all of the inhabitants first.  
>And surely, there he stood when she rounded the corner, staring around him in utter disbelief and finally resting his eyes on her. He narrowed his brows, however, when he realised she had trained her pistol on him.<p>

"I understand your notion, but there is no need for that, friend. I shall not repay your kindness with hostility."  
>Freya slowly uncocked her weapon and holstered it when he didn't move, eying him warily. He had a sledgehammer that was almost as large as she herself was.<br>"I thank you for your trust", he said slowly. "You cannot imagine how this feels, how long I have imagined this moment." Then he shook his head and grinned. "Now, to my part of the bargain. Follow me."

It was around the next corner that they encountered another mutant, but before Freya could pull her weapon Fawkes had shattered his skull with his sledgehammer. He walked on holding it in two hands, and Freya didn't fire a single shot anymore until they finally reached the chamber where he bade her wait.

A single check with her Pip Boy confirmed his words, the radiation levels were soaring in there. But only moments after he had gone in he emerged again, holding something that looked no different from a briefcase. He handed it over and Freya took it, wondering why this little thing could hold the solution to problems her parents and a whole team of scientists hadn't been able to solve.

"Thank you", she said solemnly, looking up again. "So what... what are you planning to do now?"  
>Fawkes swung his head around this way and that as he thought this through. "I shall see what has become of the world. Don't worry about me, I think I can take care of myself."<br>Freya felt a tiny smile spread on her lips. "No doubt about it. I sure could use someone like you as a backup out there."  
>The large mutant seemed to consider this for a moment but then shook his head. "No, as much as I would like to repay your kindness with more than a single errand, I fear me that I would not be welcome in the places where you will go."<br>"Probably." Freya shrugged resignedly. "The world's a bitch like that."  
>"I appreciate the notion", Fawkes said. "Really. I shall always remember you with fondness, my saviour. Farewell now, friend."<br>"Farewell", she gave back and watched him walk away and turn the corner. She herself stared for a moment at the briefcase in her hands before she shrugged again and set off on her own way out. She got no further than around the next corner, however, where she ran into a blinding light.

The room spun. She collapsed like a ragdoll, hitting the ground like a wet towel.

Her vision wavered.

Dimly, Freya could hear voices speaking.

"Is that her?"  
>"You wouldn't believe it seeing her, would you?"<br>"Heck, no."  
>"You have the GECK?"<br>The GECK is secured, Sir."  
>"Good. Then let's get the hell out of here before we get fried."<br>"What about her?"  
>"She is of no value to us. Don't waste ammunition on her."<br>"Sir."

She wasn't sure if she should be grateful, but then her world faded into a black silence.

**x:o:x:o:x**

Freya awoke to a searing, blinding pain in her head. It took her a while to sort herself out, and about half an hour to be able to at least sit up. Clutching her head in her hands she slumped over and bit back a whimper. With her memories returning very slowly, she also realised that she had failed. She had failed the Pride and she had failed her parents. The GECK was lost, and with it Project Purity.

Gritting her teeth she slowly laboured onto her feet. As she made her way back towards the back exit of the Vault, and towards the caves of Little Lamplight, she was haunted by wildly churning fragments of memories that rolled back and forth in her mind like a heap of pictures tossed into a storm.  
>There was Gob with his face beaten up. There was Nova, her looks empty as she rode on Jet to be able to endure her days. There was her father, his eyes empty and broken. Sarah Lyons and her father, Three Dog, all of them looked at her with doubt and disdain. She had failed them all.<p>

And there was Charon. Charon with his impassive face staring at her as she treated a bullet hole in his leg. Charon teaching her how to use a pistol. Teaching her how to sneak. Charon's face set tight with pain as the missile had almost blown him to hell. And Charon's face, staring at her blankly with a rifle pointing at his ear.  
>And his retreating back, the last sight she had had of him.<p>

She was a failure. One big failure. She couldn't do a thing right in this fucking world. And now she had to go back to the Citadel and tell them she had managed to lose the GECK.

Absentmindedly she tapped at her Pip Boy as she walked through the empty steel hallways and was appalled to realise that it had been little less than five months that she had fallen out of the Vault. And more or less four months to the day she had abandoned Charon to his fate.

It was hard to fathom how her life could have been fucked up so thoroughly in so short a time.


End file.
